As I said in the prologue, my husband's best friend has a nightmare of a wife. Picture 450 pounds of chewed bubble gum stuffed into a lawn & leaf bag, add some fried hair and bad tattoos, give it the charming disposition of the Stay-Puft marshmallow man on a rampage, and you have a pretty accurate idea of the type of creature I'm talking about. An entitled hamzilla with an inferiority complex nearly as big as she is. (Like I mentioned before, the only redeeming quality she has is her short life expectancy.)
So...
One evening, my dearly beloved asks if I want to go hang out with his best bud and the monstrous troll he calls a wife. Of course I don't, but unless she has someone to whine and play WoW at (yes, I'm a gamer too, but I know when to put down the fucking controller and go for a hike) she won't let her poor shmuck of a husband have any of his friends over. Ever. Now, I'd rather nail my tongue to a board than spend so much as a second in this fat bitch's company, but my love and the shmuck are as close as brothers, so I agreed to take one for the team. How bad could it be, right?
Hindsight is always 20/20....
We get to their house and I plaster on my best fake smile, determined to grin and bear it. We walk in to the usual: the kids are running amok, she's screeching at the shmuck to go do something about it because she's running a dungeon on WoW, the place is a mess because he hasn't been home from work long enough to clean it, etc. I'm used to that, having run this gauntlet before. Their girls think I'm awesome (and who am I to argue?), so they run to me for hugs and I manage to calm them down while my fella and the shmuck straighten up a bit. Honestly, you'd think this would embarrass her, but she's totally oblivious to the fact that her guests are cleaning her house and wrangling her kids. Anyway...
I put the kids to bed without too much fuss (it being way past a toddler's bedtime at this point) and head back into the living room to be as sociable as I can stand to be. My fella, the shmuck, and I are sitting on the couch, chatting away (as I said, he's a really good guy, he just has low self-esteem and horrible taste in females) and actually having a pretty decent little visit. That is, until the blob decided to join in....
She flings off her headset and loudly announces that she's hungry. No shock there, I don't think I've ever seen her go longer than ten minutes without cramming something into her maw. She stomps off into the kitchen, shaking the floor with every step, and I can hear her banging around, slamming cabinet doors, rummaging through the refrigerator, and bitching to herself. (Clearly not getting some prized price of dungeon loot had set off her "trigger".) She comes tromping back into the living room and begins talking over all three of us, loudly telling her shmuck that she wants pizza rolls. He's an incredibly laid-back guy with the patience of a saint, and he calmly explains to her that he really doesn't have the extra money for a trip to the grocery store for junk food, and that there are plenty of things in the kitchen to choose from. He even named off a few and offered to help her fix something. The only reply he gets is a loud huff before she stomps off to the kitchen again and, by the sound of things, starts throwing a temper tantrum. My loving shitlord and I exchange an eye-roll, and the shmuck starts up the conversation again, clearly too used to this behavior to even be embarrassed about it. About two minutes go by before she stampedes back into the living room and interrupts again, much louder this time, saying that she's craving pizza rolls and that there's nothing in the kitchen to eat.
Bitch, I can see your kitchen from here. There's food in it, honest.
Shmuck finally heaves a defeated sigh and hands over his wallet. (If he hadn't, I would've offered her a $10 just to shut the fuck up.) She squeals "Thank you, baby!" like it was his thoughtful idea to send her off on a junk food run and busts out the door without even asking if he it anyone else would like anything. (We'd already eaten, but for fuck's sake, where are your manners? Oh yeah, you ate them.)
She's soon back (too soon) with an enormous 60 count family bag of pizza rolls. Remember that, kids. 60. She lumbers off into the kitchen and resumes with the racket, only instead of throwing a tantrum, she's frantically nuking pizza rolls a plateful at a time. She waddles back into the living room and plops herself down in the floor with a goddamn serving platter heaped up with these little grease bombs. (Btw, the only way she can sit is this humped-over cross-legged position with her gut in her lap. Seriously, you can't even see her legs or feet.) Without offering any to the other three people in the room, she starts shoving them into her feed-hole two and three at a time. The noises she's making at this point are beyond description. Snorting, smacking, wheezing, just the sound of a hog eating slop, really. It was all I could do not to gag.
Meanwhile, all the racket she's made in the throes of her eat-lust has awoken her oldest child, who's maybe 3 at the time. Naturally she sees her mom eating something tasty, and since kids have no concept of personal space, she dashes over to share. This fucking whale cunt literally slaps her child's hand away and screeches at her (mouth full, of course) "You already ate and you are not messing in my food! Now get back in the bed!"
Yes. She SLAPPED HER KID'S HAND AWAY FROM FOOD JUST BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T WANT TO SHARE. I thought I was going to jail that night, honestly.
The look on this child's face would have broken your heart. I calmly stood up, told her to come on with me, and carried her into the kitchen. We made some peanut butter graham crackers, poured a glass of milk, and went back to her room to watch SpongeBob. I was absolutely seething, but wee-uns pick up on such things, so we snacked, watched cartoons, and snuggled until we both fell asleep. Thank God kids have more goodness in them than grown-ups...
My fella came in and woke me up a little while later and asked me if I was ready to go. You can imagine the look he got for that one. I told the shmuck goodbye and thanked him for having us. (I am from the South, after all. Manners, even when you're furious.) My only farewell to the fat fuck, who was by now smearing pizza roll grease off the plate with her hammy fingers and licking it off, was a look that would've curdled milk. I managed to keep my mouth shut, but goddamned if I was going to pretend to be friendly...
My fella told me on the drive home that she had sat there, a shapeless blob of fat on the floor, and eaten SIXTY FUCKING PIZZA ROLLS BY HERSELF. Without so much as offering him or her own husband so much as one. OMFG...
Can you imagine being so disgustingly gluttonous that you would SMACK YOUR CHILD'S HAND AWAY FROM YOUR FOOD?! I'd starve to death before I would eat so much as a bite that I thought my kids wanted.
I told him that the next time he wanted to go visit his buddy, he could hire a goddamn hooker to go in my place, because if I am ever forced to endure that creature's company again, I will curb stomp her fat fucking head.
Submitted December 22, 2014 at 09:45AM by killer_muffin http://ift.tt/1Cmp0pQ TalesofFatHate
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