Your trunk, or mine?

Well, my trunk is broken. It's true. I have calmed down.
I am the storm that starts in the middle of the ocean, and reigns terror, on the fishermen, a la The Perfect Storm.
(P.S., I have referenced this movie on other occasions to give an example of my temper.)
Funny story, mornin' glory, I can reserve my anger for significant hurts, it's the little things, that light my fuse.



Listen, I am pretty much a coyly (ever met english, PLN?) disguised firecracker.
I would sign my name and take THAT check to the bank.



Ask, Angie, or Sue, and half of Jefferson City, Carson-Newman, would love to press charges.



I am cussing. Not quietly either. I am H-O-T. Blazin'. The fires in California?? Silly.

Just blow Santa Anna winds. I, am so unglued, that tears, don't dare show up.

They dry up, in the corners of my eyes, and decide to roll back into my head.



I pull into Mama's driveway, and try to explain the assery that is taking place,
she took one look, and said, calm down, we'll get it figured out.



I inherited the crazy temper trait from guess who? Vicky Clause. (Duck, if she gives you the Vicky Clause eyes.) (Angie has been in years of training to accomplish the mimic.)



Mama, (A.K.A Vicky Clause) sat me on the porch, and said, listen, I want you to try and tell me whats going on. Calmly. (Like a pot on the stove, honey, boilin')



Just as I open my mouth, she said, "And not like a hell-bent cat either."



I sigh.



I start. I cant get all my little words together. She stares at me.



Did my head pop off?



My Honda and I have a stand off in the middle Piedmont. I take the stupid seat down, (still wet from Tiger vomit), and wriggle into the trunk, I attempt, (weakly) to pull the emergency hatch.



Well, well, well. Broken screws.



Good. Good.



I crawl out of the trunk through the seat, and Mama looks scared.



She asks, is it ok, sweetheart? (Pullin' out the big guns, eh? Sweetheart?)



I do not purr like a kitten, I may have scared Vicky Clause. (May have)

I stare at her, and say, no.



I hold out my little hand, with the little screws.



She cocked her head to the side, "Did those come from your trunk?"



Yep.



"Daddy will be out of church soon, so, I can have him call you." (yes, Daddy's girl)



O.k.



This is not where it ended.



I squall between texts, and phone call between Sue, Angie, and Bryan.



God bless, Bryan, trying to make a joke, said,

"Do you know what you need?"



What? (sniffle)



" A man."



He laughs like a hyena, and it makes me cry harder.



I tell him, all I need is, is help.



He offers.



I accept.



I squall harder, before going into the grocery store, because,

I feel the weight of the world is on me.



I am so small.



but so great, at the same time.



The lyrics in my head?



And before me dig out a bitch I have ta find a contraceptive,

You never know she could be earnin' her man,

And learnin' her man, and at the same time, burnin' her man



Here is the big question.



Accept help when someone could hold something over your head?

Dig into the paranoia?



I don't know.



As small as it is, I will not feel better until the whole thing is resolved.

As unplanned, and fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants nature,

Why stress over this tiny thing?



That can be fixed? And will be taken care of?



Fuckin' bananas.



I guess, that's why you all keep up with me. And care for me.


That's cool. I dig it. I need it.


P.S. You have never, ever, ever, seen such a happy little dog. Champ and I slept nose to nose.
The way God commanded it to be. :) My boy is home. In the air conditioning.