Very Special Victims
Posted by thedarwinexception on June 4, 2008
Another day, another project finished, and one day less to finish sewing the things for the baby shower this weekend, which I probably won’t go to, anyway.
And you know, I FORGOT to tell you all the BEST thing about this teenager and her pregnancy and the wild ass tale that engendered.
But first, let’s look at the finished project – and I swear to God, if you don’t “oooohhh” and “ahhhhh” over this, well, you just don’t have a “that’s cute” gene. Because this little thing is CUTE!!! I don’t care WHAT anyone says – it’s damned adorable.
I bought this as a kit from Annie’s Attic, and it was on sale for a ridiculously low price – I mean, I paid less for it than the yarn that was included in the kit was worth. And why I didn’t buy two or three at the time is beyond me. I should have. And now they are all gone. Of course, I have the instructions, so I can make more, but just buying the yarn will be more than what I paid for the kit. But I just love this – easy easy to knit, the yarn is great, and it’s just so CUTE.
But this is the last of the sweaters for the baby shower this weekend, that I probably won’t go to, anyway.
Oh – and the weird ass by-product story of the pregnancy? Well, this is typical “Malone Girl in Trouble” story – too far fetched to be believed, too bizarre to be a lie.
So remember I was making the prom dress for the sister of the knocked up girl? Well, one day when Prom Girl was here I said to her “So, how is your sister and her boyfriend getting along?” Because you have to remember, at the last New Year’s Eve party, knocked up girl was with an entirely different guy – a black guy who I actually liked. He seemed nice and smart enough to realize that his best course of action was to get his girlfriend right the hell out of Malone – so they lived in Plattsburgh. This new guy that knocked up girl is with is a fairly recent boyfriend – and sometimes it takes a while to figure out if you are going to get along with someone – getting pregnant early in a relationship is sometimes not a good idea (ask Paul’s brother – which is another story for another day).
So Prom girl says “Oh, they’re getting along OK – for now, at least until the baby is born – he has said that if the baby isn’t his, he’s going to leave her right there in the delivery room.”
Huh? So I say to prom girl “Well how is he going to know in the delivery room if the kid is his or not?”
Prom Girl says “Well, because when they lived in Plattsburgh, she was being raped every day by a black guy – not her old boyfriend, though, another guy.”
OK – now how many things are wrong with that sentence? First off, since her boyfriend immediately prior to this one was black – wouldn’t it seem to make more sense that she was getting a little “something something” on the side from him as, you know, post relationship goodbye sex? And who in their right mind gets “raped every day”. I mean, at some point, you either stop letting the rapist in the house, you lock the fucking doors, or maybe, just maybe, YOU CALL THE POLICE. Who gets raped every day?? Oh, and prom girl said this went on for like 3 months. For three months knocked up girl was being raped EVERY DAY. And she never TOLD anyone because “She was afraid”. Afraid of WHAT? That he wouldn’t come back?
Sweet baby Zombie Jesus.
But prom girl seemed to think the story was totally credible, that her sister was really raped every day for three months by some unknown assailant. And that when knocked up girl ended up knocked up, she “finally” broke down and told everyone, you know, just in case her rapist was the one who impregnated her and this was evident after the kid was born. And boyfriend of knocked up girl is, I guess, willing to accept the whole situation, as long as the kid ends up being his.
But, I guess when you live in Malone, you have to expect half baked lies, because really, some Malone residents just don’t have the fucking brain power to come up with anything more creative or believable than a story such as this one. The thing that *really* gets me, though, is not how unbelievable the story seems TO ME. It’s how many people are willing to accept it as the truth, even though the whole stupid tale falls apart under even the most cursory of examination.
You have to laugh, really, you do. You have to laugh or else you have to hit somebody in the face and scream “HOW FUCKING STUPID ARE YOU?”