White boys can't jump.... safely.

On friday Mr. Morgan invited 3 guests over for tv/gaming/drinking/gorging fun. I normally vanish when these events happen because it's not entirely fucking OBVIOUS you are not wanted when walking down the hallway it's loud laughing, belching etc. and once people see your face it goes pin drop quiet worse than children hiding a puppy.

Not to say Mr. Morgan ever doesn't want me around, but it's boy-time and I don't really want to be around.

I woke up the following morning and he was perched on the bed staring at me. Have you ever woken up to find someone just staring right at you? I jumped, startled.

"Ok so I don't remember, but I've broken something." he says, cradling his right paw.

I got up to survey the house damage and it was nothing short of a frat party form of impressive. I did not get angry, because ... I don't entirely know why it doesn't anger me, I'm just not that sort of wife. I can with certainty say it annoyed me and I'll tell you why.

There is something about ONE particular wall that when inebriated and with his friends, that Mr. Morgan picks on. Same wall, all the time. Case in point.

This was purchased..........

To hide this......

I continued my rounds of yawning myself awake and checking out how much of my shit was broken. A giraffe was broken. Now THAT yes does piss me off and someone is going to write me a fucking check RAY, because it cannot be replaced and was a gift from my mother. Unless of course you want me to keep your IPOD (and I thought about it, you didnt even know you'd lost it), the only alternative is letting me come to your house and smash up your shit. I draw the line at my raffes. Poor form chap.

So then.... the wall continues. I see this, and understand why Mr. Morgan is frowning. He thought he'd morphed into Superman and could punch through anything. I have no idea how to hide this as it is the FIRST thing you see walking into my home.

This is my best shot, and Mr. Morgan helped me in a humble way. Again, I'm not mad .. just why the fuck can't you pick a wall the landlord won't see when we need repairs? Ghetto ass shit.
He was still whining about his hand, and Mr. Morgan is not a whiner. I told him to let me look and I instantly knew he'd broken it. In more than one place. I calmly rose my brow.

"What happened." It was said as a statement, not remotely a question.
"I don't remember... we went to the school to play basketball."
"Nothing good ever comes of you going to that school" as he'd fucked himself up before doing the exact same fucking thing.

He fucked around about going to the doctor for two days and this morning he said he should go. The first photo is the doctors analysis (as I see it, because yes I was there.... digging in drawers and already plotting up how I planned to fiddle with his xray copies)

This is the wife analysis.


He has to see an specialist and is wearing a splint that he hates and resents. "Cant row, can't play xbox." in a huff and pouts.

He also saw me with those xrays and frowned.

"Why are you going to post that. You know my sister will see it, tell my mom and man...."
"Because my love, that's what I do. I write."

-DM