The Quill

To my dearest mother in law ever,

الله ياخدك

To a nice trip to Venice or Paris..

Ok sure i’m not your true born son but did you know that i love you even more than my own dear mother ?

I dare not upset you, my wife could get upset and she who has sometimes your temper might punish me bad by a simple locked cross of the legs. You see, it’s the kind of dutiful love a kid quickly develops if he still wants to have his candy by the end of the day. So like getting married was not enough to complete my life, now i have a new adorable hound in my life. Oh lucky, i really feel like the newest son in law on Napoleon’s death-row island.

Thanks for sending me btw your delicious cooking experiments again today so i can field test them at the office.
Honestly your cooking has the sweetest of scents i ever tasted.  Its like crispy burnt prison meals or a soldier’s tasty dried food rations. It makes me feel all cozy inside like a convicted inmate when i eat them sitting there all pleasantly glaring in silence at the culinary carnage on the table. Only of course at prisons they sometimes have good food there and most times less painful stomach pains from random lunch-court stabbings.
Since i first started seeing your sweet daughter i never had the impression that you were trying to poison me, no never. The omnipresent lack of salt to those brave half cooked vegetables to the the tasty savor of over burnt chicken & beef charred as if set ablaze by a dragon always made my stomach go wild in anticipation.

Sure, my darling wife could have married someone else richer and more steer-able,

But thanks to your stubborn opposition to me, you made your sweet young stubborn daughter love me even more just to spite you. And now you are trying to feed me with the same care a rhino shows to a person he is impaling. So truly, how can i possibly thank you for all these sweet sweet fires and poisons.

Nop i never wished for a bus to run you over either, not you in your deepest of blue blouses and darkest of fashionable ugly ass sunglasses, fat pearl earrings bouncing on the road like samba dancers under bus tires..
I’m just not that bright of a chap to imagine such stuff to be honest.
Because you always knew me for the dim witted good for nothing slacker that swept your daughter away from her magical golden sky castle like a rat alley Aladdin instead of the self promised sir knight douche bag type you imagined for her and successful stuck to her sisters, so how could i  possibly be creative and ever imagine a chandelier falling on your thick stupid lump of a head for instance when your sweet mouth starts yammering..

You know when i was on the altar and you in all your beautiful dark disagreeing karma was standing cold in the back with creeping shadows looming over us, i was really grateful how the random Darwinian natural selection process allowed kids to not end up like their parents as your daughter shined like a bright star beside me.

True and after i got married, there is still nothing i enjoy more than to pass by your family house early Sunday morning for another well burnt meal dear mama and get served also the same frozen sermons of wisdom come lunch time instead of cuddling naked with my warm wife before my kid wakes up in the morning.
Yes i’m really looking forward to be asked again if i’m teaching my own son proper religious fan fiction in line with family tradition and socially acceptable weirdness with your softest of annoying voices.
I like nothing more than his grand mom telling him again about wise old prophets on yellow submarine weed trips and even wiser vengeful white bearded creators with the intellect of 5 year olds smashing sand castles.
The moral of the stories that end up with lots of people dying & burning in hell like tacos for not ‘conforming’ are simply outstanding to recount to small children to help them build strong independent characters.

Yeah my fake smile when i see you is always as genuine as your beautiful fake smile when you see me too, so we are in sync, our feelings so mutual.
I’m sure you always tell your daughter how lucky of a girl she is to be with someone who loves her like me instead of someone who can buy her a brand new car each month and that you can parade around as a trophy.
Lucky for me though, in that respect she is not her mother’s daughter and that’s why i love her to be honest.

But still, as much as i really hate your meddling in what doesn’t concern you and you always treating me like i’m either a 12 year old imbecile in need of constant guidance or a loser unworthy of your daughter,
I always try to be my best to be my nicest self to you trying not upset my sweetheart wife and your sweet daughter by telling you one day to finally shove a sock in it or telling my wife more than once in a blue moon, when i’m not horny and feeling courageous about abstinence, that her sweet dear mother is a selfish owl looking old hag of a bitch who takes my love for her daughter and my courteous patience for her stupid bullshit for granted..

this writer already regrets publishing this article ..