for the cunt who spawned me
Delphine Lecompte

i bumped into my mother this morning,to be honest i could have avoided the collision,i saw the slut coming towards me from miles,but i couldn’t resist headbutting her,and don’t fucking judge me,if you’d have a mother like mine you’d either be in prison or the nuthouse,or writing daft stories,i decided to give all three a try,and writing daft stories suits me best,though i really miss being sedated tied beaten and arsefucked by the kinky nightnurse and his little abused indie slaves,not to mention all those vegetables and forcepses he shoved up my arse and the dribbling demented old tarts he forced to lick my cunt and some of them died on me and some of them were beaten to death by him on me,but i knew he’d never kill me,he loved my young emaciated body so much and there were so many objects he wanted to poke into my orifices and i was the only one in the nuthouse who would never grass him up,cos it’s not in my nature to grass people up,and for all his violence and his vegetables,i quite fancied the kinky cunt,i even asked him to adopt me,and he said he would,but he never;prison was quite frankly awful,i had to share my cell with a vicious fat dyke with mean little reptile eyes who constantly leered at my tits,not aroused,jealous,aroused would have been ok,but the cunt was fucking jealous,jealous because the night jailer lifted me out of my bed every bleeding night to let me read his poetry,it was bloody awful poetry and i wanted to go back to my cell cos i knew the longer i’d be gone the more aggressive and frustrated the dyke would get,so i called the night jailer a genius and i said he should quit his job and make a living out of his poetry,and that’s what he did,and he became a renowned poet,but the fat dyke remained vicious all the same,and i missed my sweet poetic night jailer,thankfully i was bailed out by wee andy after five weeks,we cheerfully frisked to his house hand in hand singing oasis songs and greeting all the piss-soaked hobos and cocky sparrows,that day wee andy gyrated like morrissey until he fainted and i drank white wine until i passed out,the next morning though i woke up angry and spiteful,why did the fucking cunt have to wait five weeks to bail me out??oh to teach me a lesson?and what lesson would that be,fucking spazwit?and i booted the sorry cunt,ran to my depressing bedsit,barricaded the door,put on manics at ear-deafening volume,vainly trying to smother the retching junkies,brawling drunkards and whimpering orphan boys,and i started to write and i knew i’d never stop,cos i was hooked to all those bloody words and the lines and the stories and the dodgy characters that inhabit,or should i say infest,or should i say grace,them;anyway,where was i?i was headbutting my mother,we then talked for a little while,and our little jolly conversation went a little like this:“Delphine,it’s been years since we last saw each other...,” “yeah and i was eager to add a few more decades,” “you look awful,you need a new haircut and do something about that skin of yours,” “you look stunning,you look about ten years younger than me,” “i know...and i’ve had my nose done,which you should really consider...,” “shut up,shallow slut,” “do you have a boyfriend?a husband maybe?” “no i don’t have a boyfriend,stupid cunt,you kinda put me off people,and i’m afraid it’s permanent,” “what about your job?do you still work at a supermarket?surely there must be better jobs around...,” “like what?what do you know about work anyway?you’ll be supported by despicable men until your tits start to sag,and even then i’m sure you’ll find some demented deluded rich old fart to gleefully rip off,pfffff,i loathe you,by the way,i’m writing a book and you’re not in it,” “I AM NOT IN IT????? how could i NOT be in it,i bloody well spawned you,i’m your mother,if it wasn’t for me,you wouldn’t be here,” “exactly,” “you have to write a story about me,oh please write one especially for me,a tender story,you could call it for my beloved mother,just the one story,i’m begging you...” “stop begging,it’s embarrassing,alright,alright,i’ll write you a story,i promise,”and then the manipulative cunt was gone and i went to my bedsit to write a story about her,cos i always keep my promises.


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