Sunday, September 2, 2012

Strife


Her name was Laura Larson and she had a son with this guy she had been with for a handful of years. The son was five or six years old. At one point in the relationship, they had broken up. She went away, met another man from Brazil whom she ended up with another child by- a girl. It was the little girl that stayed in the bedroom that was in the front of the house, the first room on the right as you walked up to the front door. The room had a couple windows, one facing the road. They were extremely messed up- covered in what looked like mud or brown paint. I soon learned about this room where the “man” kept the bulldog puppy- and a small amount of information that was, to me, pertinent to the welfare of this child. It would be several days, to a week before I would digest it all. I’m not convinced I wasn’t supposed to be there to help the child- sent by angels to save her life- I’m sure. Was this a test of my ability to care for others, while still dealing with my own misery? 
The smell that came from that room was terrible and would keep me out of it until I had a better understanding of what that room was, and what it meant. When I learned that the child was sleeping in there, knowing it was the dog’s room, I really started working towards a solution. I witnessed his dog training techniques- holding the dog with one hand by the back feet, while smacking the Dog about the face. I visualized the scenario: the dog and child were put together in hopes that it would kill her. It would appear as if it was only a room the dog was left in routinely, and the child had gone in there. Not being the child’s room- that she wanted to play with the puppy. It’s amazing she didn’t die from the fecal contamination! There was a small piece of foam rubber that resembled a crib mattress. It was soiled in shit. Poop smeared and caked on all walls, doors, and window surfaces four feet up everywhere. In the meantime, the man-ling was getting his paycheck cashed and getting the word STRIFE tattooed across his upper back. He was intentionally torturing the little girl, tormenting the household mostly because he wasn’t man enough to accept his failures at being able to maintain and contribute to a household, to correct his mistakes and accept his future, his fate. He was angry at her for who knows how many selfish reasons but the most important issue was over her bringing another child, from another lover she became acquainted with after their break-up, into the scenario when he finally decided he wanted to try again or when she decided- either way… an attempt at salvaging what they once had as a couple for the sake of the children- or their son. We call them sore losers where I come from, and as for the mom, Laura, it’s a sad day when a woman is so emotionally crippled, and lacking in confidence and self-esteem because of nurturing deficiencies in her up-bringing and relationships, that she fails in her responsibilities by getting knocked up regardless of whether she has the means to care for an additional child. Man he was, in Earthly form, but this man-ling was just a piece of shit that hadn’t yet found his calling as a prison inmate.
Strange, just as the shit was smeared all over the room, he was smeared all over that child and her mother’s life. Her starvation for attention and affection was what would lead her to throw herself at my feet briefly and was my foothold to motivate her to change the situation. With my influence, and mentioning the child protective authorities coming and taking her kids, she would walk into that disaster to face it head on, as far as the “living condition” and the dog being housed in the same room. The situation with the man-ling would be a whole ’nother battle that she would have to deal with entirely on her own. As I think about it now, I had an opportunity to have him arrested for negligence and abuse at the least but I didn’t have the hate or anger or maybe the ability to call the police, of all people, or the comprehension of the dynamics or the big picture but I knew the child’s living situation had to be addressed. Whether she left or he left, I don’t know but I think they did end up splitting up completely. It’s too bad it didn’t happen before the man-lings iguana bit their son. It had no cage, sometimes kept in the little girls room but was left free to roam around the house, causing for the boy’s nose to need to be sewn back on. It was a nasty scar. The Iguana was large, which three plus feet, in my limited education, is large. It was never taken care of and got “misplaced”, and after the eviction. it was later to be found in the walls of the house, where it died. It must have been a nice surprise for their landlord the day he found it.