It's always something, right? The Boy requested to speak with his father the other nite. I roll my eyes while I dig out his inconvient long distance Las Vegas number. When I hear his voice, I shove the phone at The Boy not wanting to speak to this nigga anymore than I'm required to.
His father hasn't called much lately. I don't speculate; it is what it is. It makes no difference to me but matters so much to this boy. Frankly, if he's not calling bout anything useful to my son, ie, child support, I have nothing to say to him.
Fast forward to this afternoon. I stumble out the room for my afternoon piss. While partaking the porcelin, The Boy brings me the phone telling me his stepmomma wants to talk to me. I'm confused cause she normally doesn't call me and I no longer hold conversations with her. She's not a problem actually; it's her husband I can't stand. At any rate, the fewer attachments I have the easier life is for me.
Anyway, she informs me that her husband is a schlupp which I knew already, and has taken over the task of sending The Boy the uniforms he needs for school. During some idle chit chat she also informs me that this nigga has become a minster. A. MINISTER. Even the turd I was ready to drop had to pause for a minute. That heathen ass nigga...a minster? I still don't believe her. I guess all that dirt he did done drove him to the pulpit. Guess what though....he still aint shit to me and aint neva gon' be shit till he do right by his first born.
Let him thump his bible with that. Word.
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