Farewell, Bitch

I did some snooping in Jennifer’s room. Her dirty laundry basket was full. I found some of her panties loaded with dried up cum. I knew she was fucking that coworker of hers. Whore.

Before I began the move out, I hopped in the shower and beat off. I got a huge load of spunk and I dumped it into Jennifer’s bottle of hair conditioner. That should keep her hair looking nice and shiny over the next couple of months for her new boyfriend. I thought about storing some fireworks in the kitchen oven. I’ve got some of those really loud Black Cat firecrackers and it would have been a simple thing to duct tape a few packs to the top inside of the oven and wrap the fuses around the heating element. I chickened out on that prank at the last minute due to possible fire hazard issues. Would have been badass though. I also considered dropping a huge poo into her bed pillowcase, but that seemed too malicious so I didn’t do that one.

Senor 23 helped me move everything to B Street and I will owe him one bigtime. Not only for the moving assistance, but also for saving me a room back at the B Street house so I had a place to go. Sometimes good friends can really come through for you. During the chaos of the furniture moving, one of Jennifer’s Siamese housecats escaped. It made a successful yet crazed break for freedom to the outside world. “Get hit by a car!” I yelled at the cat as it sped past Senor 23 and I on the front steps to the house.

Since I figure Jennifer is not going to return my $400.00 deposit I decided to confiscate the bootleg cable box I bought her from a mail order company back east. I replaced it with the real cable box from the local cable company that only gets channels 2 through 13. Both boxes look identical. I was sure to place it exactly where the other one was sitting on top of the entertainment console in the livingroom so hopefully she won’t figure it out until it’s too late. She’s never been good with household electronic appliances. She should be easily confused as to why the pay per view movies don’t work anymore. I’m confident Jennifer will shriek in anger as soon as she tries to fire up HBO and it comes through all scrambled. Too bad I won’t be there to see it happen.


~ by factorypeasant on July 11, 2005.

2 Responses to “Farewell, Bitch”

  1. Man you went through some crazy shit and I feel for you. I know how good and bad it feels when you walk out the door on a relationship and know you are never going back. It can tear you both ways…
    It would be good to hit dollar beers with you again. Those were some of the better evenings at work, even though those 9pm hangovers sucked ass.

  2. i’m up for the dollar beer action. hit me up, we yap about it.

    i never saw or spoke with Jennifer again the day i moved out. that was eight or nine years ago now. i hope she’s off somewhere being miserable. i really do.

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