The Act of Selling and Redeeming Wolf Tickets

The best and worst thing about me is my big mouth. I am truly not one of those people that make an issue out of everything, but once something has become an issue for me, things can get ugly. Even deeper than that, is the overwhelming desire to follow up my words with actions. Allow me to explain.

On my second day of kindergarten, I got into a fight. This girl named Tiffany and I went to the same baby sitter and she HATED me. Evidently, to her, I seemed like the chick to fool with, so she just walked up to me on the yard and shoved me. Given the fact that I already had the reputation for being a fighter, and got in trouble on the FIRST day of school for catching the bus (when I had a ride and NO idea where I was going), my mother sent me off with the instructions to "not act a fool" that day. So I told her to leave me alone and walked on. She started pitching rocks at me and I made a few disparaging remarks about her appearance so she came at me. I told her "If you come over here, I'm gonna bite the devil out of you." Evidently that gave her an idea so she ran up and bit my arm. Unfortunately for her, that put her face in an extremely vulnerable position. I put a pit bull lock on her cheek and wouldn't let go. For some reason, the teachers that didn't witness her push and throw rocks at me did catch me trying to rip her face off. Maybe it was the screams that clued them in. In any event, I got in trouble that day at school, but my sitter and my family, who knew of my woes with Tiff, found the whole thing hilarious. I had EXCELLENT role models. I also had few, if any, problems with Tiffany or anybody else for the rest of the year.

Fast forward to fourth grade. By then, my cussing skills were sharp as a suit at the Players' Ball. Even my older brother was impressed. About this time, I also developed this bold rebellion that defied reason, considering my parents never hesitated to put their feet in my ass. For some reason, my fourth grade teacher, Ms. Gourrier, plucked my nerves. I had been threatening to curse her out for weeks and of course, none of the kids believed I would do it. On this particular day, the class was rowdy and she decided that she would take our PE time from us. For some inexplicable reason, I decided that was the time to make good on my threat. The PLAN was, while all the other kids were protesting, I would make my move - hopefully being drowned out by the cacophony, yet being heard by my seat mates and keeping my word. The words "BITCH you must be out of your fucking mind" came out so quickly, I barely had the chance to realize that my utterance of the word "bitch" silenced the room. She turned nine shades of purple and asked, "What did you just say to me?" At that point, it was done and I couldn't back down. I knew I was in trouble either way, so I figured I'd go out in a blaze of glory. Though part of my brain was telling me to shut the fuck up, the part that ruled my mouth made me say, "I know damn well you heard me." She knew that my mother didn't play that, so she called her at work. I wasn't suspended, but the moment I got home, my parents set up a tag team ass whipping extravaganza. Of course, it didn't stop me permanently, but it did earn my teacher about two weeks of peace from me.

My family thought that as I matured, my mouth would do the same, and it did - to a point. It took a lot to set me off, but once I did get set off, shit went full throttle. I was a new mother, on a family trip to AstroWorld. I did, and do, not play when it comes to the well being of my child and woe to the person that threatens it. Ty was only about 4 months old. Some bad ass kid jumped over his stroller, and I told him to keep his ass away from me. He turned around and made some reference to getting his mother. My response was "Call your damn mama!" Within five minutes, I was face to face with one of the biggest women I had ever seen in all my days. Common sense told me to get the hell out of there, but something else said "If you don't stand up for yourself and your child, who will?" It was bullshit though. Part of it was for my child, but the other part was for my big ass ego. What's funny though, is the fact that if that woman would have gotten a-hold of me, standing probably would have been a distant memory. I stood my ground and went word for word with her. She told me "I don't know who in the hell you think you are talking to my damned child like that. You fucked with the wrong one." To which I replied, "Maybe if you CONTROLLED your child, we wouldn't even be having this conversation, so I'll do you a favor. . . AFTER I beat your ass, I'm gonna beat his ass so that he remembers not to act a fool and jump over strollers." I said it, but the whole time I was talking, I was thinking, "This behemoth is going to grind me into powder." I surveyed the area for something to crack her dome with and was coming up with nada. Evidently, it got to be too much for some of the other folks, because security showed up and escorted both of our parties to our cars. That was a lucky day because that big bitch was going to make mincemeat out of me.

I'm sure that I referred to the fact that one of the reasons behind my divorce was physical abuse. Once I left my ex, I told him "you've gotten your last free lick off me." I planned for there to be some consequences and repercussions. After months of him harassing and threatening me, things came to a head in June of 2002. We were having a disagreement in a hallway outside of my pregnant cousin's apartment. He was angry because I would not let him in. We were going back and forth when out the blue, he popped the shit out of me. He was cocking back to hit me again and the words "last free lick" popped into my head. I then proceeded to execute one of the best rabbit punches of all my life. I must say, I dazed the hell out of his ass. He shook a little bit and tried to hit me again. I was feeling cocky, so I drew back, swung and damn near took his jaw off. Unfortunately, the next thing I remember is catching a pool of blood in my hand. It turns out the motherfucker hit me with a key ring and damn near broke my nose. What a beyotch. But what can I say. I just told him it was his last free lick. . . I didn't say I would whip his ass. I can say that was the last time he ever put his hands on me.