To the Clemeister:
I want to quit. I know I could sing but I just don’t think I could keep up with the professionals, more seasoned old farts, who can sing louder and better than noobs like me.
First, I think the cane lady and her husband won’t be coming back. As mentioned in my blog, the husband told us that his wife doesn’t feel good. We met him awhile back in the Commissary grocery store. Plus, I don’t like hearing the cane lady’s blunt opinions about your style and your dysfunctional personality/family.
Second, Ate Ising is freaking me out. In front of everyone, she is really nice. But whenever she sits next to me after the initial greetings, I can sense that she is disturbed and doesn’t want to sit close to me but is forced to sit next to me.
Third, that’s the same feeling I get coming of from that thick-skinned, wanna-be, politician known as Thelma, the same one that uses people like me to get ahead of the game. She made the mistake of asking our permission to place her sign board on our property, not realizing my beef with TBTP and pals.
After church Sunday morning, that woman and her cohort Gloria were giggling loudly in the parking lot to prove that they get along. Gloria, the ECH payroll clerk of over four decades, helps deposit Thelma’s funds, by the way.
Third, you are such a great pretender. I know you saw my parents; yet you chose to veer off and away to the left as we entered to church to the right. I’m disappointed in you. You know how to get out of sticky situations that make you look uncool with a bunch of fat, ugly, poor Filipinos.
I told my parents that is how kids my generation avoid gossip or any uncomfortable situation. I know about your marriage and maybe your sister’s police record. No wonder your mother is freaked out that we may/might know something. But most data is not accurate to say the least. I don’t care.
Forth, the brutal audience noticed that my pie-hole doesn’t open up widely enough and I don’t sing loudly enough to project the volume necessary for those faithful believers to hear.
I grind my teeth at night and my jaw is too tired to move during the day. I don’t like talking too much either. That’s how angry I’ve become and repressed my undeniable rage had manifested.
The anger shows in my face, too, from the betrayal of our stupid church allowing the likes of Loca Lolita to show her shameless face on MY turf, the police and their mostly white cohorts of lawyers and judges, who don’t care, to TBTP and pals, including those giant/Nephilim/fallen angels/Islander gangs, who still owe me an explanation.
That’s why I can’t hold a straight face of feigned contentment and I let my real and whole-hearted disappointed skin drop in front of everyone to see and witness that their Lawd Gawd let me down – BIG TIME!
Yup. Hmm. Just like my paternal cousin Chill, you both are great pretenders/good leaders, who can get along better with kids by the simple manipulation of impressionable young minds. It’s too bad but in a good way, I guess, that you much prefer non-Filipinos as company.
With lots of hisses,
Evil Kitt
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