Things 'round the CountryMouse house have been sucky for months. Make that sucky with a capital S. And a capital everything else. And a handful of heartfelt exclamation points. SUCKY!!!!!!!!!
Child is hurt.
Broken into a thousand pieces hurt.
What the word 'smithereens' was invented for hurt.
Warning: I'm about to be undignified.
Non Apology: I've earned it.
Child has led Child's self into a universe of pain at the hand of one who was previously trusted. The Mama can't do a F***ING thing about it.
What The Mama would like to do is:
1) Run Pain Causer over. At least twice. With a cement truck.
2) Run Pain Causer through. With an assortment of sharp . . . strike that . . . dull--and rusty!--implements.
3) Run down entire litany of every wrong that Pain Causer ever committed while staring daggers directly into Pain Causer's obtuse, flaccid eyes. Wrongs which I know about. Wrongs which I only think I know about. And wrongs which I, being who I am--again invoking non apology--surreptitiously found out about.
4) Run amok with Pain Causer's credit record and medical record, followed by creating extensive and colorful criminal record. Perhaps I'd leave dental record intact. For identification purposes. In case Pain Causer should happen to get run over. At least twice. By a cement truck.
5) . . . hmmmm . . . I've run clean out of ideas. Damn! I'll think of more. Lying in bed, unable to sleep, frequented by pernicious memories of Child's suffering, I'll think of more . . .
Oh, and Pain Causer, in case you should ever read this: Elf. You.