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I'll Shoot Your Eye Out!
Nothing has changed.
Your parents say: "Jump."
You say: "How high?"
They say: "We're here."
You say: "Let me give my girlfriend an anxiety attack and then I'll leave her when she's a blubbering mess. Because I rather spend Christmas with my "family" then my girlfriend and son."
Well merry fucking Christmas to me?
'Til death do us part?
That's what the glass clock you gave me last night reads.
More like til your parents call, and then you leave me.
Did we really come full circle?
Last year I call you up sick, eight months pregnant.
Ready to pop any day, any moment.
"Please, can you guys come over here?" I pleaded with you.
"My mom doesn't want to go out-- But you guys can come over here."
"But I'm sick."
"She just got in her pajamas-- She doesn't want to go out."
And here we are Christmas Day, one year later.
Wake up a little bit before 11am.
"Now I have no time to spend with my girlfriend--" that's what you yell at MY mother whom just woke you up, after letting us sleep in because she didn't know what time we went to bed.
"-- And I have to clean the living room, and take out the trash."
"Just do it and then spend time with me."
I say this as a Google how many different version of The Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens have been made in film, movie and televison adaptions.
You clean the living room.
I put on music, listening to Demi sing about wanting to give someone's heart a break rather then breaking it. (Sounds pretty nice to me?)
And then your parents call.
They're coming in a half an hour.
Like that ever happens.
Like they ever come on time.
I shrug, brush it off.
Their track record says that they'll probably be here by noon.
Half an hour.
They're pulling in the driveway.
Panic disorder returns from the grave.
And my heart breaks in half.
"I thought you wanted to spend time with me? Why didn't you say that when you were on the phone with your family, a half hour ago."
"Why didn't you bring it up-- Is that all you do, wait and find fault in everything my parents do. I just want one day with my family."
And you leave.
Get in their car and you're gone.
Thanks alot.
So much for Christmas.
Here we go again.
Another Christmas where your parents are put before me.
Well don't come home for Christmas.
I don't want their presents.
They can shove them up your ass.
Bury you with your own pudding.
And stuff you with a stake of holly through your heart.
Fuck Christmas!
Fuck you!
I hate you!
Don't come back tonight.
Or tomorrow for that matter.
I don't want to see your face.
Come anywhere near me.
Call me and say you're coming over.
I'll slam the door in your face.
Fuck you-- Fuck your family-- And fuck Christmas to Hell and back.
So much for our "baby's first Christmas".
And "til death to us part" is a load of crap.
Come anywhere near me.
Go on and try it.
Come anywhere near me or our son.
Anywhere near what is left of my Christmas.
Watch me take aim.
Pull back the hammer.
Squeeze the trigger.
And shoot your eye out.
Thanks right I said it--
I'll shoot your fucking eye out.
Fuck you.
And a happy New Year.
Your parents say: "Jump."
You say: "How high?"
They say: "We're here."
You say: "Let me give my girlfriend an anxiety attack and then I'll leave her when she's a blubbering mess. Because I rather spend Christmas with my "family" then my girlfriend and son."
Well merry fucking Christmas to me?
'Til death do us part?
That's what the glass clock you gave me last night reads.
More like til your parents call, and then you leave me.
Did we really come full circle?
Last year I call you up sick, eight months pregnant.
Ready to pop any day, any moment.
"Please, can you guys come over here?" I pleaded with you.
"My mom doesn't want to go out-- But you guys can come over here."
"But I'm sick."
"She just got in her pajamas-- She doesn't want to go out."
And here we are Christmas Day, one year later.
Wake up a little bit before 11am.
"Now I have no time to spend with my girlfriend--" that's what you yell at MY mother whom just woke you up, after letting us sleep in because she didn't know what time we went to bed.
"-- And I have to clean the living room, and take out the trash."
"Just do it and then spend time with me."
I say this as a Google how many different version of The Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens have been made in film, movie and televison adaptions.
You clean the living room.
I put on music, listening to Demi sing about wanting to give someone's heart a break rather then breaking it. (Sounds pretty nice to me?)
And then your parents call.
They're coming in a half an hour.
Like that ever happens.
Like they ever come on time.
I shrug, brush it off.
Their track record says that they'll probably be here by noon.
Half an hour.
They're pulling in the driveway.
Panic disorder returns from the grave.
And my heart breaks in half.
"I thought you wanted to spend time with me? Why didn't you say that when you were on the phone with your family, a half hour ago."
"Why didn't you bring it up-- Is that all you do, wait and find fault in everything my parents do. I just want one day with my family."
And you leave.
Get in their car and you're gone.
Thanks alot.
So much for Christmas.
Here we go again.
Another Christmas where your parents are put before me.
Well don't come home for Christmas.
I don't want their presents.
They can shove them up your ass.
Bury you with your own pudding.
And stuff you with a stake of holly through your heart.
Fuck Christmas!
Fuck you!
I hate you!
Don't come back tonight.
Or tomorrow for that matter.
I don't want to see your face.
Come anywhere near me.
Call me and say you're coming over.
I'll slam the door in your face.
Fuck you-- Fuck your family-- And fuck Christmas to Hell and back.
So much for our "baby's first Christmas".
And "til death to us part" is a load of crap.
Come anywhere near me.
Go on and try it.
Come anywhere near me or our son.
Anywhere near what is left of my Christmas.
Watch me take aim.
Pull back the hammer.
Squeeze the trigger.
And shoot your eye out.
Thanks right I said it--
I'll shoot your fucking eye out.
Fuck you.
And a happy New Year.
Published 25th Dec 2013
| Edited 31st Dec 2013
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