How to Create a Fuckboy

"What did you just say?"

"The boys are not here." The two men, both loyal customers and by now good friends, were of course bewildered. "When we heard your car drive up, we thought you'd have the lads with you. Don't you know where they are?"

"Hey, Bitch!!" I screamed. "Get your fuckin fat ass up here. NOW!!" She came up the stairs in a slinky red and black silk robe, waving her hands to dry her nail polish. "Where the fuck are the boys, Bitch?"

"What boys?"

"You know fuckin well what boys! My boys! I dropped them off at the Y on my way to lunch and you were supposed to pick them up after their swim lesson. That ended two fuckin hours ago!!"

"Oh, shit. I guess I forgot. Let me slip some clothes on. I'll go get them."

"You forgot? You fuckin forgot? Forgot your own fuckin son? What the Hell kind of mother are you anyway!!!" I turned to the men. "I'm so fuckin sorry, Guys. I'll have to go and retrieve the lads. The poor boys. Beats me how anyone could treat little kids like that." They shook their heads. "I know you can't stick around 'til I get back. We'll make it up to you somehow. You're both good customers. Listen, while I'm gone, if you want, take the bitch here and do whatever you fuckin want with her. Both of you. I don't fuckin care. Maybe YOU can teach her not to treat my boys like that." As I stormed out the door, they dragged her screaming into the Mickey Mouse room. They loved Fuckboy and Little Cunt and I could see they were angry that someone could just abandon them like that.

Doc was called to attend to her black eye, swollen jaw, and sprained rib cage. "No broken bones, no, no, no. Looks like they kicked her in the crotch a few times. After they both raped her. Can't say I blame them really. Neglecting those boys like that. Who knows what might have happened if, if, if some stranger had picked them up, or they started walking home along the busy highway in the rain and dark and all, and all, and all. I shudder at the possibilities. Thank God, Thorndike, Thank God, Thank God, the boys were still there when you arrived."

"Yes, they're smart boys. They know not to go with strangers. And Fuckboy, bless his heart, cares so much for his little brother, watches over him like a mother hen. Can't say the same for her, though."

It wasn't the physical injuries that hurt the bitch the most. It wasn't even listening to Fuckboy say he hated her and wished the two men had killed her. No, what caused the greatest ache for the whore was the fact that she'd be out of commission for at least a couple weeks, unable to get her insatiable fill of male cock.

When the Beckers heard what the bitch had done, they too were angry. Never having had her own children, Mrs. Becker couldn't believe a mother could be so heartless. "Now, Mr. Thorndike, don't worry about a thing. I'm going to make sure these boys get three proper meals a day. We'll come by every morning at six, and I'll start cooking breakfast. Then we'll stay through supper. We won't take no for an answer. It's the least we can do for these poor neglected children."

So the Beckers began spending their entire day with us. I really appreciated it. Not only did they cook, but they also insisted on doing the cleaning, laundry, shopping, everything Fuckboy's mother would have done if she really cared about being a mother. The bitch eventually recuperated from her well deserved injuries and went back to her profession. However, the Beckers kept coming. They kept the house cleaner than it had ever been. Mrs. Becker's meals were unsurpassable. She even began giving the boys their piano lessons. Mr. Becker took over maintaining the two cars. He considered the '91 Buick Reatta Coupe a real challenge and wanted to restore it to its former glory. They were like grandparents to the boys, so the kids began calling them Pop Pop and Nanny. So did all the rest of us.

I began to wonder why the Hell I was keeping my sister around. Yeah, she brought in a little dough when she was working, but was it worth all the trouble she caused? I thought again about selling her to a downtown pimp, but doubted if I could find a buyer.

Nanny was more sympathetic to the wench than anyone else, treating her more like the wayward daughter she never had. She'd prepare a plate for her and hold it until my sister was hungry enough to come and claim it. Nanny even washed the whore's clothes and sheets. "I can't say that you're a real mother, Vera; I never pushed a kid out between my legs, but I know it takes more than that to be a real mother. Nevertheless, I am indebted to you for bringing this sweet child into the world for us."

It was Veterans Day, November 11. Since Pop Pop had served in Viet Nam, the Beckers and I paused for two minutes at 11AM to remember our fallen heroes. Then the three of us waited for the two boys to finish with their clients and join us for lunch. As I tried to analyze those delicious aromas in the kitchen, Nanny kept slapping my hand for peeking under the pot lids.

Suddenly, the cellar door opened and a pale apparition that vaguely resembled the bitch appeared. Nanny ran to her and guided her to a chair.
"Oh my dear child! What happened to you?" She felt her forehead. "My God, she's burning up. Pop Pop, carry her out to the car. We need to get her to the emergency room."

"I'll get my coat."

"No, Mr. Thorndike. Your place is here with your boys. Pop Pop and me will take care of this."

"Call me as soon as you know anything."

"Of course. Now, lunch is all ready, and there are makings for soup and sandwiches in the fridge if we're not back by supper. And..." But Pop Pop interrupted and got his wife out the door.

I got the bitch's list of bookings and used her phone line to call in the cancellations. At about 4, I answered my own phone. It was Nanny. "Your sister had a miscarriage."

"A fuckin what?!!"

"Yes, it is upsetting. She was very, very stupid. Should have known better than to get herself preggy. She lost a lot of blood. She's very weak. She's probably going to be in the hospital through the weekend."

Nanny, bless her Christian heart, visited the bitch every day. Neither boy had any desire to see her. I couldn't bring myself to go until Sunday. Her room was full of flowers from all her "admirers."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I screwed things up fuckin bad."

"Yes you did."

"I didn't mean to get knocked up."

"Then why the Hell did you? We've been buying you fuckin condoms by the crate."

"Well, sometimes the men, no, really, most times, they don't want to use them, you know. And I can't tell them different, you know. I could never tell men to do anything, you know."

"Shit, even the six-year old knows enough to make the guy put a glove on his love. You are such a fuckin loser, Bitch. I'm so fuckin fed up with your antics. I don't know why I keep you around."

"I know, Sir. I'm sorry. Please don't kick me out. I got no place to go."

"And what if you have another bastard?"

"It won't happen, Sir."

"Why?"

"Well, the doctor here said I could get my tubes tied. Since I'm in the hospital anyway. Then we won't need to worry no more."

"Yeah, probably not a bad idea. Either that or a fuckin chastity belt."

"Just one little thing, Sir."

"Hmmm?"

"The operation will cost some money and you know we don't have no health insurance. But, Sir, if you could pay for this, I promise, I'll find some way to pay you back. Whatever you ask, Sir."

And that's why the Monday after Thanksgiving, I was back in O'Malley's office, along with the bitch and the boys.

Next: We Go to Court