There Will Be Blood

So.  I've been keeping some things under wraps these past few weeks because up until today they really weren't too much of an issue.  That changed fast.

Back before Thanksgiving, when Scarlett was 3,000 miles away, she put a profile up on some dating site.  Got something like 300 hits which made her feel good and special.  Once she got back to Tara she winnowed that down to about half a dozen or so.  The first dude she went out with was "too old" and too "stuck in his ways" whatever that might mean.  Ok.  Strike one.

Guy #2 was far more interesting.  Younger than her (which is what she wanted) and I don't know what else.  Well, they set a first date which consisted of him coming over to Tara where Scarlett was going to fix him dinner.  Maybe it's just me but I kind of think that a first date should be held in a more public place in case you find yourself with a lunatic of some sort.  Whatever.

So this date, a week (maybe 2) ago started out that way, then they watched a movie or two and....it became a sleepover.  There's that old time religion for you.....

Well a couple of days later, I get a call from Scarlett who is headed to Urgent Care with what she thinks is a bladder infection.  And as it turned out that's pretty much what it was.  But theses types of infections are also called Honeymoon Cystitis .  Huh.

Okay.  So we know how that first date went and we're getting a pretty good feel for the type of person Scarlett really is.  But then along came date #2 with this guy.  I think I'll just refer to him as Pecker.

So, Scarlett calls me yesterday to tell me that she will not be going to her usual Thursday morning function at her church and therefore I will not need to come over to Tara to walk Salty Dog.  Huh.  My spidey sense tells me something is up.  Well, courtesy of a neighborhood mole I have my suspicions confirmed that in fact Pecker is coming over that evening and it will be yet another sleep over.

This morning upon waking up I find two voice mails from Scarlett.  The first informs me that she is in the emergency room with really no details.  The second informs me that a neighbor will be picking her up from the emergency room, she lost a lot of blood.  Now things are sounding strange.

So I call Scarlett who is now at Tara.  She is feeding Salty Dog but would like me to come over later today to walk him.  Ok.  And when I asked what happened I am told that she had an asthma attack, fell down, cut her forehead, lost a lot of blood and called 911 to take her to the emergency room.

Asthma, loss of blood???  Yeah.  Something here just doesn't foot.

Always good to have a mole to confirm or deny information you get from questionable sources.  Lucky for me, I just happen to have one such individual.  So I place a call and lo and behold discover that most of what I've just been told is....oh, how should I phrase this?

Not quite true.  Mostly lies.  100% pure unadulterated horseshit.

So, precisely what did occur that found Scarlett on yet another 911 ride to emergency?

Hemorrhaging.  From her delicate parts.  Thanks to Mr. Pecker.  And she slipped in her own blood, hit her head which caused even more bleeding.  Way to go Scarlett.  You show those young bucks you still have poise, class and a godly nature.

So, neighbor brings Scarlett back to Tara.  She's asked if Pecker is still there.  Oh, no, I gave him some money and told him to call Uber to take him home.  Home?  To mommy and daddy's?  To the dorms?  Mr. Pecker doesn't own a car?  Does he have a driver's license?  The mind reels with all these unanswered questions.

And to back up just a bit.  Scarlett, after calling 911, called this neighbor (at 3 in the AM) to say that Pecker has to be protected.  Apparently she was anticipating the arrival of Police who would see the bloody floors, sheets, mattress, Scarlett's cut on her head, and black eye (which she apparently received by walking into a microphone the other day - more class and poise...) and would naturally assume that Pecker probably should be questioned.

Okay, so we have Scarlett back at Tara with no key.  The good samaritan neighbor does have a key and opens the door for Scarlett.  Scarlett mentions the mess upstairs and neighbor goes up to look.  And who's still there...Pecker.  Probably not the manner in which he really wanted to meet one of the neighbors.  But in the scheme of things this is going to be one of his lesser worries.

So Scarlett is informed that Pecker is still there.  Neighbor leaves and a little later Scarlett calls me to come walk Salty Dog later today.

I go over to Tara, now aware of these facts but thinking that Pecker surely must be gone by now.  I am not going to confront Scarlett with any of this but will point out inconsistencies in her story and allow her to dangle and eventually hang herself.  But as it turned out that wasn't necessary.

I arrive at Tara, see Salty Dog in the garage but hear voices inside my house.  Hmmm.  So I open the door and what do my eyes behold?  Why, it's Scarlett, in her usual place, reclined on the couch (in her bathrobe) and Pecker standing by my kitchen sink.

I politely asked 

"Who the fuck is this?"  To which Pecker responded "I'm Pecker".

Scarlett at this point is being oh so Christian and Godly saying "Oh fuck, what are you doing here?"

I'm not paying much attention to the whore on the couch, instead my attention is directed to the asshat who is standing in my kitchen.  "Get the fuck out of my house boy" I politely told him.  Then I looked at Scarlett and oh what a sight she was.  Slept on hair, black eye, white as a sheet with nice cut on her face running from mid forehead down towards her other eye.

"You did this to her?" I inquired of Pecker.  I dindu nuffin.  Now, in all fairness, he does look like maybe half of that is true but there's a dindu in the woodpile somewhere in his family tree...

So I offered to call the police.  "You don't need to call the police" I am informed by Scarlett.  He dindu nuffin.  Yes, we've already established he's a dindu nuffin.  So, remembering that there is one item upstairs I do need to retrieve I go up stairs leaving Scarlett and Pecker to contemplate their respective fates and whether the previous night's activities were worth the cost that Scarlett will now be paying.  More on that below.

Upon arriving upstairs I see the bedroom.  To Pecker's credit he must have spent some time cleaning up the mess.  But there isn't much you can do about a blood stained mattress.  It looked like some animal had been sacrificed rather ruthlessly and with little regard to it's comfort.  Suffice to say that that mattress is now 100% Scarlett's.

Whilst up there, I say in a voice loud enough for the two irresponsible children downstairs to hear "You fucking hypocrite bitch.  You made me promise and swear that I would not bring any woman into this house while you were gone because that would humiliate you with the neighbors.  And what did YOU do?"

Now, in truth, I didn't need to do anything as Scarlett has already single handedly humiliated herself in the neighborhood with absolutely no help or assistance required from me.  Still, the hypocrisy of it all is almost too much to stomach.

So, back downstairs I go, tell Pecker who is still there (what the hell is the matter with kids now days?) to get the fuck out of my house and off my fucking property.  Really, how many times do you need to tell people something?  Especially people who should realize that maybe, just maybe they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Seriously, this younger generation....what the hell are they using for brains?  Their peckers?

My grandad, rest his soul, told me something years and years ago before I even had a driver's license.  He said, Salty:

A man is born with two heads to use

Success depends on which you choose

Heads you win, tails you lose.

I guess Pecker didn't have as wise a grandfather as I did.

Anyway, I am now out of my house (amazing the stench that a house takes on when there is no clean living going on) and am in my car.  Pecker still hasn't left.  So I position my car so I can look straight at my front door.  Pecker and Scarlett finally show their sinful faces and Pecker hoists a small duffel/gym bag over his shoulder and begins to walk down my driveway.  I politely ask him - "Doesn't the little boy have a driver's license?"  His reply was that he did but he didn't drive while drinking.  Yeah, I figured that too was part of last nights festivities.  So, being the responsible adult I am I reminded him that perhaps "maybe you shouldn't be drinking asshole."  Surprisingly, he did not thank me for that very good and healthy advice.  Kids.  Sometimes they can be just so unappreciative.

And that leaves Scarlett still at the front door, now looking at me.  Oh if looks could kill.

She blathers something about it being her house and we aren't married anymore.

Once again, she has her facts all screwed up.

So I respond - "Sadly, we are still married.  And that deal I offered you Tuesday?  Yeah, that's off the table.  You won't have very much left over once this is done.  Bitch."

So what was that deal I refer to?

We had a mediation meeting Tuesday wherein which I pretty much gave her far far more than even a judge would have required.  All she needed to do was keep her nose clean for a couple of days and the documents would've been signed and she would've been on her way.

Now?  

How should I say this?

Scarlett wanted to get screwed.  And with the help of my attorney I plan on doing that to her good and hard.  Not quite in the manner that Pecker did her, I'm not out for physical blood, but there will be blood.