Daddy's real good lookin. Like here in the deliv'ry room afta I just slid down'n out the pipe known as my motha all cuvvahed in vaginal goop with my head fin'ly freed from that placenta bag I'd been swimmin'n rotatin in all that time.
"Ah, Hon, they're just a gorgeous lil baby. Gonna be a ragin charma, I can just tell!"
I'm nekkid too!
Mom's a solid lady I mean lOOk at all that effort she just went through ta push me out inta the world from deep up inside her, squishin out between her legs. Mom's a good lookin lady too she is. Even without makeup'n sweat pourin down her face'n stinkin cause she just ejected an alien life form aka me from the bowels a'her human body. She's def'nit'ly no push ovah but honestly she coulda done it without the ep'dural I kinda hold that against her I mean what ya don't wanna feel yer own baby crown it's head through yer way too small vagina? Guess it just goes ta show deep down that Mom's a chaste Jewish woman'n that's not an insult ta Daddy I love my Daddy but it don't really matta anyways I'm here aint I?
🎶 Electra Rex knife sex / Wet'n hot'n heavy while we smash the test / I'm drownin in flores 🎶
"Did our baby just sing English?" Mom asks, waist-down numbX0
"Sure's hell wasn't Spanish," says Daddy.
Two pints a'blood goes a long way ta paint the inside a'Mom's thighs'n the birthin table'n the floor'n the fronta Daddy's gown. Blood all ovah his hands too it's soaked inta the bandages wrapped around his swollen knuckles.
"Somebody wipe the crap offa this baby so I can hold my own kid huh?" Daddy says.
They say Jebús nevah cried.
"WAAAAAAA-WAAAAAAA!" I shrieks.
I aint come here ta save the world, save it from what? Humans? Please. Nature's at war. N I gots a date with nature in the flesh many years from now. Bruja!
Daddy brings me inta his chest. Yar such a hunka man I loves ya I know I does. So much. Screamin'n clickin my little blubby unfunct'nin limbs, just a wrinkled pink Caucasian baby that's soon ta have a golden tan which'll pair well with blonde er'brunette. Breathin pure oxygen fer the first time instead a'that viscous liquid stuffin down my windpipe'n esoph'gus'n every otha orifice I swear it's like I's amphib'an in there now I'm cat-uh-waul-in'n spittin placenta remainda all ovah Daddy's face like I'm the first evah born-a-sinna.
And can ya believe they do cir-cum-ci-sions here'n the med people don't even numb it cuz a baby don't have any mem'ries but that doesn't mean it still don't hurt like the dickens $#%! Maybe I'll be a docta when I grow up;)
"Now—-how's my bundle a'joy babygirl?" Daddy wants ta know, puttin his big ol index finga in my mouth which I'm gnawin'n gnashin down on with my gums cuz it tastes like cigarettes. Didn't like it in the womb'n don't like it now. Gross. "N soon enough ya'll be cookin'n cleanin with the best a'em," he says.
🎶 Should I flourish / Should I / Should I / Should I / Should I flourish 🎶
"Sharon, I swear that baby's singin. Maybe there's somethin wrong with her?"
But Mom's sleepin already. Before she even got ta hold me.
"My little Angel," Daddy says.
Nobody but Daddy calls me that.
It's my birthday today. Yessir! There's people all round the table'n there's balloons'n cake'n the drinks're flowin. People're happy'n I like ta be happy. Don't ya?
🎶 Happy bir-thday, dear. . . 🎶
I do hate this $#%! song it's like Christmas music er'White Metal. Prop'ganda muzak don't do it fer me ya hear? Hey, YOU! Yeah I'm talkin ta ya this spoken prose don't work without the both a'us. What's yer problem anyway? Still envyin the happy folks are ya?
"I love ya, Sweetie," Daddy says. He's not sittin at the table but standin a'course, lordin ovah his beautiful fam'ly in the magical castle he built with the fruits a'his own hard labah fer all us ta live long'n prospa in. Providin fer his fam'ly. Bein selfless fer his fam'ly. Our own personal king.
Daddy slides the lighta down the table right inta my hand. It's time fer cake by the way. My fam'ly's all here. Mom. Daddy. My dumbass brothas. A buncha my friends. I strike the light first-attempt poof then hold flame ta the candlewax. I am in awe a'fire. My friends're all jealous I just know it. I wonda what they bought me har!
"Blow em out right," Daddy says. "Act like ya know what yer doin. Unlike yer motha."
"Startin shit'n lookin fer attention from yer daughta's element'ry school friends?" Mom says. "Dickless Nickless."
Daddy smiles at Mom, then raises his glass. She just stares. They been at odds all mornin bout somethin.
Daddy starts singin the stupid song again'n everyone joins in. I'm feelin it not the song but the overall mood'n I just get ta clappin'n wailin like good strong women're known ta do'n then I'm outta my chair'n dancin'n all my friends'n my brothas we're just whoopin well except fer my youngest brotha cuz he's just sittin there like a cesspool since it aint his birthday'n so I turn the cake up'n ovah onta his square head the little basturd!
Brotha's chair skooches back gratin against the floor'n bangs inta a'couple people! Daddy's still singin'n so everyone else's too! Even Mom starts in, afta lightin her cigarette:(
Brotha's wearin my cake he lOOks like a rabies victim times ten he's screamin'n leaps up as I step towards the table'n just wallop his face with my fist'n a'course then with the second fist it always has ta be the one-two like Daddy says they don't call boxin the sweet science fer nothin.
I see red in Brotha's cakeface as he tumbles backwards'n everyone's just goin apeshit all the sudden runnin circles'n just gen'rally gall'vantin'n screamin I got all kinda urge ta turn the kitchen table ovah but I resist then chase Mikey a full swing around Charlotte then step on the cat before dartin outta the room'n up the stairs afta him. Glass breaks downstairs'n a hushed calm comes ovah the house next door but not in this house cuz everyone's goin crazy it's my $#%! birthday!
I catch Mikey top a'the stairs'n push him hard inta the wall I mean his head smacks hard'n dents the sheetrock. He turns round ta face me with a big smile on his face.
"Lee, I will push you down the stairs," he says playfully.
Our hands entangle'n we start grapplin.
"Ya'n me both," I says, maneuv'rin fer position.
Mikey's a fighta, I love that about him.
But he's gotta use the toilet so I let go'n show him the bathroom. I sit down in the hallway'n wait.
. . .
N he musta really had ta go he's been in there a long while. Poopin I bet.
I open the bathroom door. Lee is sleeping in the hallway. I was doing number two for a long time. Maybe I fell asleep too? I don't know. I don't understand time. I'm going to sit down next to Lee. I want to kiss her. She's pretty. My mom says Lee and her family are weird. I don't know why. Mom says, "Mikey, don't you think it's weird your friend Harleen has bleach-blonde hair but brown eyebrows?" I don't know what she means. I'm just a boy!
I sit down next to Lee in the hallway and then I lean over a little. And, I touch my lips to Lee's lips. Her eyes pop open, and we are lOOking at each other. And kissing. She grabs me by the throat and very fast tosses me on my back. Next thing I know, like right this very second, is that Lee is on top of me and totally angry.
"Don't ya ever kiss me!" she yells. "That's sex'ule assault! I kiss ya do ya undastand?!"
Lee is very serious!
"Do ya undastand?!" she yells to know!
"Yes-yes! I'm sorry I'm sorry!"
"Good." She lays down beside me in the hallway. She takes my hand. She puts her head on my chest. It is breathing and going up and down with her head.
"I am learnin ta always be in control with men," she says to me. "Know this, Mikey."
"What? In control? Like the police?" I say, on my back, laying on the carpet, staring at the ceiling.
"No, Mikey, not like the police at all. We don't like the police in this house."
Her head moves to the left on my chest. Er, I mean the right. Right?
"Did we learn about control in school?" I ask her.
"Mikey, look, I just can't let ya kiss me first. That's the old way. I am a woman. I make the rules. I am in control. Is it clear ta ya now?"
"Rules?" I don't understand.
"I'm stronga than ya," she says.
"No you're not."
"Yes I am!"
I grab Lee's hair, with both of my hands. I yank and she grunts, then she turns over to face me. I feel her hands around my throat, and her thumbs pushing up into my head behind both my ears. Between my jaw and neck.
"Ouch-ouch-ouch!" I scream letting go of Lee's hair. It hurts so bad!
"That's right, Boyo," she says, giggling. "Par'tid Lyph Nodes."
"What?"
"Pressure points. Ya got one behind each ear."
She starts tickling my belly. I am very ticklish. I start giggling. She's giggling.
I want Lee to be my girlfriend. I like when she smiles and laughs. She is a special girl. And then, then, she touches her lips to my lips. And we stay in this position for like, um, maybe a lot of minutes? I can't look at my watch because we're kissing.
"Damnit! Harleen, is that ya up there?" It's her dad. He's yelling from down the stairs. "Get yer ass down here. Where ya been?"
Lee hops up. "Come on, come on," she says and grabs my hand, and we run down together. Lee's dad is big. He's at the bottom of the staircase.
"Ya little punk, what in hell're ya doin with my daughta upstairs? Alone?! By yerselves?!"
"What?"
"I said what're ya doin alone in an adult house with my daughta without supavision?! Ansa the question, Boy!"
"Nothing-nothing, Mr. Q! The bathroom!"
"Ya were in the bathroom with—-"
"Daddy! Daddy! Ya leave him alone!" Lee says. With a loud voice. "Don't ya talk ta Mikey like that!"
"Mikey?! Who the hell is Mikey?!" Daddy wants to know.
I thought he knew my name:(
"Mikey's my boyfriend! This's Mikey, Daddy. Acknowledge him. . . Now!"
Wow. My dreams are true.
"Yer boyfriend?!"
He is very mad and I'm okay to not be Lee's boyfriend.
"Yes! My boyfriend! I love him."
"You $#%! what?!"
Mr. Q puts his finger in Lee's face.
"Ya do not use that word in this house er'anywhere on this planet except when referrin ta me er'yer motha er'yer brothas!"
"I do not LOVE my stupid brothas!"
"Then only fer me'n yer motha. That's it! Ya got it?!"
"Get yer finga outta my face!" she says to, um, Mr. Q. Mr. Q. is a lot bigger than my dad. And my dad is fat. Very fat.
"I betta what, Young Lady?!"
"Ya will not treat me'n Mikey like this. I am a grown woman."
"Yar seven years old!"
"I am an in-di-vid-yal! I am my own person! N I don't love ya eitha I hate—-"
Mr. Q. slaps Lee in the face with his big hairy hand and her head goes sideways. A little line of blood goes across the front of my white shirt and my mom's going to be mad because she hates scrubbing. I look at the blood. I am scared to look anywhere else.
Lee spits two teeth into her hand.
I run, I run very fast through the house, I run out the front door. I don't think Lee can reach Mr. Q's pressure points.
I'm sittin on Daddy's lap, kissin his face'n runnin my fingas through his hair. Daddy has very pouty lips just like mine. High cheekbones'n a healthy lookin count'nance, his nose all crooked cuz Mom'n him enjoy arguin it's one a'their fav'rite hobbies'n at times I gotta get involved cuz Mom's known ta exagg'rate'n 'cast blame'. Anyways I like the way Daddy's stubble scrapes against my cheek'n the smell'a his musk mixed with his aftashave cuz it's what first turned me on ta alcohol at a young age by the way. Is'prop'ol, it's all the same once ya get past the taste. Wer at the bar.
"Stop with all the sentimental shit, Harleen," Daddy says. He don't mean it. He likes the attention. Afta-all, I'm Daddy's little girl.
"Shut up," I says'n slap him hard cross the face. "Ya need my love." He's a tough sumbitch. Know this.
"Ya aint too old fer a spankin," he threatens'n I just get so tickled when he says that.
Me'n Daddy're cel'bratin cuz I start college next week! There's gonna be bunches a'hot guys! N hot ladies! N hot trans folks! I mean I lived in New York City my whole life but once ya start feedin mall'able youngfolk highly spec'lized in-fer-ma-tion in college ta go long with the unfiltahed craziness a'their actual lived ex-per-en-ces? I'll fin'ly learn ta think tot'ly fer myself, ta cut it up on my own so ta speak. N I just know I'm destined ta be a docta. I love knives.
"I can't believe my only daughta's goin off ta college. Me'n yer motha were hopin fer Yeshiva Univuhsity. But anyways, first a'the family ya are."
"Ah, Daddy."
"Neva met a smarta woman than my Harleen. Maybe not a smarta man neitha. Well—-" he laughs.
"Jinkies, Daddy!" I says, givin him anotha smoth'rin hug'n pullin his $#%! hair hard. "Ya could've tot'ly gone ta college."
"Ya think so?"
"A'course, Dummy!" My Daddy's smile's ta die fer. "N most college students hate readin too so ya'd be in good company!"
"Nevah undastood that about ya. Absolute waste a'time in my opinion but anythin that makes My Little Angel happy."
"It's not too late ta enroll! Come with me'n we can be roomies!"
"I wouldn't live in a cesspool like Gotham City even if it was my absolute last option unda witness protection."
"Witness protection?!" Did Daddy really just say that? I goes ta slap him again but he grabs my wrist.
"Harleen! Damnit." Fatha-daughta tusslin at the bar. "Where's yer sense a'humah today huh?"
Just fer the record, Quinzell's're not'n've nevah been snitches.
"My period," I says, grittin my teeth'n fin'ly tirin out sittin on Daddy's lap tryin ta kill him.
"Ya sound like yer motha."
"Is that a problem? I am my motha's direct descendant. N ya obv-yusly found Mom attractive."
"One plus one does make three without the cock sock."
"Gross," I says.
"Tell Daddy what ya wanna be when ya grow up. When yer all growed up'n graduated."
"I wanna be a motha-$#%! hustla."
"That's my girl."
I have a drink a'my milk while me'n Daddy share a comfort'ble silence. Comfort'ble silences're nourishin, specially with the ones ya love. Just that feelin a'con-nec-ted-ness'n the warm calm that comes ovah yer body even though the language thought-machine nevah stops spittin out word afta word afta word. At least the words're positive cuz obsessin ovah negative thoughts all the time's the pits.
"I. Am. Pre-pos-sez-sin."
I stare inta the mirra behind the bar. The white milk mustache on my uppa lip, in stark contrast ta my golden high school beauty tan. I already know I can have any man I want'n I'm lit'rally just a kid! But already far along the path a'becomin a mastamind. Reminds me a'last Halloween when I's a Swimma Mime'n in a barely there swimsuit'n I painted my entire body white'n I mean my entire body even my pie-gal. (I'm shaved;)) But I couldn't do with all that silence it was just way too much fer me so I quickly became a random staypuft ghost-white bitch in her undapants. Who ya gonna call?
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, Baby?"
"Do ya love me, Daddy?"
"What?" he says. The look—-slightly concerned I'd ask such a foolish question, but tot'ly receptive ta my in-se-cur-ties. Daddy's nevah shied away from any problem I've had, nevah been one ta hand me over ta my motha cuz he was embarrassed er'without a solution. He always has'n always will have unendin patience'n the sincere approach a'lovin-kindness as a parent'n true friend. "A'course I do, Hon!" he says. "With all my $#%! heart. Ya know this."
We lOOk inta each other's eyes. N the tears begin ta well up in mine.
"God-damnit, Harleen! Ya know I hates ya cryin. Kid, fer the love a'heist!"
I just can't help it.
"I just can't help it!" I says, beginnin ta sob'n a'course shakin'n quiv'rin.
"What the hell's yer problem, Harleen? Where's yer Midol? Let's get ya yer Midol, okay? Where's yer purse?"
Sometimes a kid just has a lotta regret. Fer bein ungrateful'n gen'rally just a little ter'izin shit.
"Ya remember that time, Daddy?"
"$#%!, Harleen, do not start with this bullshit today."
"That time," I says, as the streams get ta pourin down my face. "That time when I lost them two baby-teeth?"
"Jebús, Harley! I forgave ya afta it happened. We been through this ovah'n ovah."
"I know ya did I know ya did! But I didn't mean ta say it I swear I didn't mean it!"
"Quit the whimpahin'n shut up!"
But I just can't, I'm so ovawhelmed with regret'n the mem'ry a'bein so turrible. I put my forehead ta Daddy's forehead, softly, feel the bone a'our skulls pressin. Clutchin both my hands behind his neck.
"Harleen, get the $#%! offa me!"
I can tell—-anyone can tell—-his face's beginnin ta crack'n he's gettin ready ta choke up so we can fin'ly have our fatha-daughta moment fer the hist'ry books. He's gonna be so pissed I caused this scene in public but I didn't plan it I promise, trust me'n so I try ta calm myself with some med'tation'n deep gaspin breaths while hangin on him while snottin all ovah his shirt when I exhale but breathin in his manly odor on the oxygen return. Daddy curses me again, then pushes me onta the floor.
"Nick!" I cries out ta him as he's hightailin it ta the head.
Some people don't undastand how psychopaths can actu'ly love their kids. But they can, at least the ones that undastand re-spons-i-bil-ty. Meanin: disciplined enough ta make a signif'cant mounta money'n live comfort'bly so's ya can support the fambly.
Mania without frenzy, I think that's one a'the first early terms back in the 1800s. What? Just gettin a little headstart on my college studies I am I am.
Harvey Glatman, t.v. repairman: losah. Joel Rifkin, yard waste: losah. Berkowitz, hon'rable discharge, eh: losah. Kid Twist? Success'n fer the sake a'this dialogue irrel'vant that he was a bitch-ass snitch. N psychopaths don't usu'ly cry cuz ya gotta ovaload their emoshnal circuits which's no small feat. I mean can ya even imagine tryin ta make a zombie sex slave outta a live normal human bein with a concrete drill? Stay-at-home mad science, eesh. Dahmah wasn't Jewish though, I digress, but he was postal har! Poor. N dead. N a losah. Point is, takes a bit more ta stimulate a psychopath than the resta us folks. Unda'roused both cortic'ly'n an-a-tom-i-kly. That's what they tell me anyway but how should I know he's my Daddy fer god's sake'n I'm here aint I?