Hello, and I'm gonna be frank, upright and candid about the horrible events of Saturday morning. My daughter is married to a psycho, a demon possessed SOB, who touts himself as a Christian, but is a monster, a bully, hateful, spiteful, an insane pile of sh*t. I had lulled myself into thinking this sob had changed, to a degree, because he has been fairly nice for several weeks, but he cannot supress his true nature for long. The counselor had warned us of this.
Saturday morning at 6am, my daughter Carm phoned to make sure I was up and ready to go to Walmart. She cannot take the heat, so she comes early and picks me up--Zee had already gotten me up and helped me dress etc. Then Carm would load me and the wheelchair into the car, we'd make our run to Wallymart, and be back by 9am at the latest before the temp reached 102 degrees.
So the phone woke up the sob, then he comes into my room where Zee and I were talking; the sob rushes in, in one of his demonic rages and screamed and carried on and had one of his tantrums, like a five year old--and that's his mental age--a horrible sight in a 350 pound man, I mean screaming and frothing at the mouth, red faced, spiteful, demonic.
This a**hole tried to hit Carm, the sweetest most gentle kind person I know, threatened Zee, and got in my face. I am not afraid of him. I am mentally stronger, and his demon doesn't faze me. Ever time he vomited out a spiel of vitrolic sh*t, I threw one right back at him. He hates that. As a bully, he wants women to cower and cry and plead for forgiveness. That ain't gonna happen bub.
I told Carm to call the cops--and it's not the first time they've been here. He took one cop out on the back porch and was calm as a cucumber. That shows he could conrol his temper if he wanted to.
Sob left for work, leaving two crying highly upset women, my daughters, and I said let's get out of the house today. We went to our favorite places, a combo of antique/ thrift store and browsed around, I treated them to lunch, then we all went home to rest. I hate and despise that sob. I keep urging Zee to leave him and move to Mississippi--or leave him period. Why don't I leave? Because Zee would have NO ONE to back her up, to love her and protect her.
That evening, Zee made some cookies and I drank a glass of Moscato, then we retired for the night. What a way to live, at the tantrumish whims of a bully. Did I say I hate his guts?