Hey people. I am Monolicle Potato, the fanciest Potato since 2007. I will jump to the point. I need to get something off my back that has been there for a while. Back when I was way, way younger, I met a man that my mother fell for. He seemed nice. He was funny and playful, and he didn’t seem harmful in any way. I will refer to him as ‘Joe’, because he was a perfect average Joe. However, his colors changed as soon as he was let into our doors. He was somewhat...different. It was a small change, at first. An insult here, a playful punch there. But that small change gave way to something bigger. He started to become ‘himself’, the demon that I absolutely LOATH to this day. I and my family didn’t know it at the time, but he had started on drugs (again, according to his history.) His jokes and chuckles became more violent, his laugh darker. It wasn’t all bad at first. He kinda acted like a school bully who didn’t really do any harm except a bruise or two. But that attitude came back with knife reinforcement. He would rave about his (nonexistent) collection of knives, showing them off whenever someone so much as rubbed him the wrong way. We would spend hours, and he spent our money on ‘friends’ who would ‘always pay us back’. They didn’t. I don’t know exactly what was going on, but I’m sure he was cheating at some point. Then we had to move. It was disguised under a termite problem, but we were actually running from the Police. We settled down in a bad neighborhood. Definitely lower class type. It was all downhill from there. Horrible people lived around us, but there was some good. I bonded with a particularly cool kind of kid, but he too slinged insults, cleverly desguised. His friend is who I took a particular interest to, My neighbor. He was kind, but it didn’t ease my pain. I had to watch my younger, innocent brothers like a father. It was hard to keep them happy. They weren’t satisfied with sitting on the couch and watching TV (something we couldn’t actually afford, thanks to most of our money going to unreliable people). No, they wanted to roughhouse. Who knows how many bruises I got through my blind parenting? I couldn’t handle such things, being a pale and skinny little kid. Half the things we ate were inedible for us, containing only beans, spice, and meat for every meal (yes, Breakfast too). The only bliss we got was when Joe went on one of his drug trips, or whatever he and my mother were doing. We actually just ate PB&J and cereal. I had to live off of that! I just wanted to get this off my chest. Then I’ll get out of your hair. Why? Oh, why must this happen to people who have been swindled and hurt their whole lives? We just got fresh out of that situation, but I want to know why. Why must Satan throw such horrible things at people who were tired and weary? Why must he pull the wool over the eyes of women, deeply in need for a companion? What has anybody ever done to deserve such continued pain and anguish?
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