Marriage Mayhem

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Table of Contents

Words can make life brighter or darker. Words can generate love, words can create peace, and words can also initiate a war. They can build people up or break them down. Words can spread a cloud of misery or forge a chain of unhappiness. Words can create an environment of good or evil. Love is a language that is unfailing in all ways. Love never faileth.” (1 Corinthians 13:8)

Language can build or destroy relationships, and love is a language everybody understands.

If you or your spouse is physically or emotionally abusive, mentally ill, sexually deviant, or addicted to any self-destructive substance or behavior, consult with a therapist before situations escalate.

This book demonstrates the
marriage mayhem
that ignited many incidents of verbal, physical, and emotional abuse.

“You mean to tell me that before I married you, you sold pussy up and down the streets of the same fuckin' city that we live in?”

“Yes, I did, Jermaine, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I was addicted then, and all that is a part of my past.”

“Damn!” Jermaine yelled, nodding in disgust. “That means I married a goddamn ho! Ain't no way on God's earth that I can convert a ho into a housewife. No way in hell.”

“I was a housewife before I was a ho, Jermaine, so it's not like I'm not capable of being a good mother and wife. I did what I had to do to support my habit; I fucked both men and women, I sucked a countless amount of dicks of all races, but the good thing about it was that I wasn't giving up much pussy. I've lost my kids on a couple occasions due to drugs and the life I was living, and I have been known to set muthafuckas up, so watch what you say and do to me. I do know a whole lot of gangbangers out here and they won't hesitate to kick your ass or take you out if I tell them to. Like I said, Jermaine, that was my past and if you can't accept the way I am today as opposed to the way I used to be, then fuck you and move on! Men come a dime a dozen, you know what I'm sayin'. Just like you picked me up the first time you saw me, other muthafuckas will too. I look good for my age, and I damn sure know how to please a man, so do what you wanna do if you can't accept my past, nigga!”

They had been married a little less than three months. Jermaine had introduced her to a middle-class lifestyle opposite to the street life that she was accustomed to.

Prior to meeting Jermaine, Karen's life consisted of continual failure, long streaks of bad luck, and being a reputed drug addict and prostitute. All of this took place due to the way she chose to live. Now, because she was Mrs. Jermaine Hopkins she thought her shit didn't stink and that because she had exceptional sex to offer that she could get away with doing or saying anything to anybody.

The fact that Jermaine was an outstanding husband and father to each of her kids did not prevent her daily bitching or disrespectful, foul mouth. She had crossed the line a week after they were married by pulling a knife on him, and had gone even further by calling his mother and daughter bitches and whores. What really pissed him off was when she refused him sex out of spite simply because she knew he craved it.

Arguing was right down Karen's alley. She debated all of his decisions, opinions, plans, and advice regardless of how sensible they were. When they'd first met, Karen didn't have a pot to piss in or a hole to throw it in, but now, as if she'd recently switched brains with Albert Einstein, there was not a thing in the world that she didn't know. Jermaine couldn't teach or coach her on anything.

“When I first met your sorry ass, you didn't own a car, didn't have a place of your own to live, and you didn't even have a goddamn plan! Now all of a sudden you know every damn thing!”

“Fuck you, Jermaine! You think you're big shit because you drive a BMW, wrote a book, own a few houses, and make lots of money driving trucks, but you ain't nothing but a piece of dog shit! All you do is floss around town in your fancy cars and talk about people who are less fortunate than you! What really pisses me off is that you're always trying to belittle me one way or another. If you knew how to talk to me maybe you could get anything you wanted out of me whenever you wanted it. I had tricks that treated me better than you. At least they talked to me nice and treated me special. There were times that I drove over a hundred miles just to give a man some head who had talked to me nice over the phone.”

“The only reason they talked to you so nice is because they wanted a good, satisfying head job, but you were too stupid to recognize it. Hell, don't hate me for my accomplishments, Karen. If your thinking was right, you could accomplish whatever you set forth to do, and have nice things, but that's your problem, Karen. Your thinking pattern is all fucked up. All you want out of life is a goddamn welfare check and a place for you and your kids to sleep. Your own sister told me that you've been on crack, and a ho for as long as she can remember.”

She struggled to maintain composure, but his words were about to set her off at any given moment.

“Jewell told me the reason you're always saying or thinking unusual things and carry on like an uncivilized nut is just because you're on some kind of psych meds.” He paused to smirk. “She also told me that you have never, out of all the worthless men you've been with, had a good, responsible, successful man. She said that's the reason you don't know how to treat me. She told me that all the men of your past were either one of your tricks, a crackhead who called himself trying to make money, but y'all were too busy smoking up the product, or a wannabe thug!” He nodded in disgust.

“That a goddamn shame, Karen. It's unbelievable, but of course drugs cause people to do disgusting things. It's a shame that a woman would have losers in the presence of her children. What that really tells me, though, is that you have no self-respect, no respect for you kids, and your self-esteem is gutter level.” He had wanted to say those things to her a long time ago.

Karen stared at him angrily but silently for a few moments, but then approached him, smiling.

“The bed that you bought and sleep in when you're home, I just want you to know that I've been fucking Tyrone, Lester, and big dick Danny in it while you're so goddamn busy making money driving trucks cross-country. At least I'm being honest about it.” Then she smiled and added. “Ump, as big as their dicks are I'm surprised you couldn't tell when you called yourself fucking me last night.” Then she walked away feeling somewhat compensated for the verbal beating he had given her.

“What! I'll kill you, bitch! You had another muthafucka in my house and in my bed while I was working! I'll kill you, Karen!” he yelled, and then stormed toward her.

The kids witnessed the entire incident, which unfortunately they had seen take place between their mother and a number of men.

Jermaine cruised in a black Explorer en route to pick up his paycheck but was distracted by a short, light-complexioned woman pushing a baby stroller. Trailing behind her a few feet away was a little boy. Jermaine did a double take, then quickly made an illegal U-turn and pulled over to cheerfully approach her. It had been years since he had used his so-called rap on a woman, but out of loneliness and the desperate need of a mate he decided to go for what he knew. Being a cross-country truck driver did not actually provide him the time to be involved in a serious relationship, but he was anxious to change that.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you today?” he asked, smiling, revealing his even pearly whites.

The little boy gave him an angry “leave my mama alone” look, but Jermaine ignored it and pressed forward.

“Fine, and you?” replied the woman. She had observed the look her five-year-old son had given Jermaine, but during that time in her life she was desperately in need of a man. A real man.

Her living arrangements and self-esteem were at their lowest peaks.
Maybe he can help me out of my situation. I'll bet he has a good job, his own place to live, and probably has money in the bank. Hell, some other woman has probably already got him sewed up. If it came down to it, shit, I would have no problem being the other woman. Let me see what he's about. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain,
she thought.

“I'm Karen, and you are?” she said, smiling. It wasn't often that she ran across decent men.
He just might be the ticket to me and the kids having a good life.

“I'm Jermaine,” Jermaine responded. Glancing at the little boy, seeing that he was getting angrier, Jermaine quickly diverted his attention to him.

“What's up, little man?” The kid frowned, then turned his head. “What do you want for Christmas, little man? How about I buy it for you?” Jermaine asked.

Instantly, Karen's eyes lit up, as well as the child's .

“His name is Stevie,” said Karen, grabbing the boy by the arm. She could not afford to let her son mess up this possible winning ticket. “Stevie, say hi to Jermaine and tell him what you told me that you want for Christmas.” She gave an embarrassing laugh. “I'm a single parent, and Christmas is probably going to be scarce this year,” she tested.

A few days prior Karen had a long, serious talk with Stevie regarding her financial situation. She told him that she could not afford to buy him anything before Christmas, but when her welfare check came on the first she would pay Mr. Pete the rent money then she would spend what was left on him and his sister.

“I can only afford to buy you a scooter and a couple pair of pants for Christmas, Stevie. They cut my welfare check again, and I just can't afford to give y'all the Christmas I want to, but I promise you that if I have to work three jobs and hustle on the side, next year Christmas will be a real Christmas for both of you. Hell, or maybe I'll get lucky and find y'all a daddy by then,” Karen had told him.

“I want a dirt bike, a PlayStation, a whole bunch of games, some new clothes that's not from a thrift store, a basketball court, and a—”

“Is that right,” Jermaine asked, pleased about suddenly having Stevie's approval. “Why don't we head to the toy store then?” he asked with a smile. Minutes later Karen and her two kids were inside the Explorer with him.

Wanting to further impress her, Jermaine made sure to show Karen the new big rig that he drove across country as a long-distance truck driver. She nodded in admiration. He then stopped at Bank of America to withdraw a few hundred dollars to shop with. Now he was set.

While driving they began discussing past relationships, plans, and present situations and issues. Jermaine discovered that Karen actually had four children, and each of their fathers were crackheads, alcoholics, drug addicts, and womanizers. Jasmine, Karen's oldest daughter, was doing very well for herself despite the negative upbringing she was exposed to. She managed a McDonald's, and also attended college, determined to obtain a degree in nursing, while her teenaged son Marvin lived with her sister Jewell.

Feeling at ease conversing with Jermaine, Karen revealed the fact of her being a cocaine addict, but she had made it clear that she had been clean and sober for twelve months straight. She also told Jermaine that she'd been to jail on a few occasions but for nothing serious.

Before Karen was sentenced to a live-in drug program, she was living with her twenty-one-year-old lover, Tyrone, inside his mother's house. Due to Tyrone having a humongous dick and being able to fuck all night long, his age hadn't been a factor to her at all.

“That was your past, sweetheart,” Jermaine had said. “I'm not concerned with what you've done in the past, to me it's about how you think and conduct yourself today. Most importantly, hopefully you've learned from your mistakes and realize that there's only one way through life and that's the straight way. Think about all the celebrities who were addicted to drugs: Mary J. Blige, James Brown, Bobby Brown, Robert Downey Jr., Natalie Cole, Smokey Robinson, Samuel L. Jackson, and the list goes on, you know. Hell, I even heard that ol' Bill Clinton was getting high in the White House and getting blow jobs. People that are followers, people that are easily influenced, people who do wrong things just to fit in, those people are weak and can lose focus just like that. Sometimes they'll even hit rock bottom before facing reality.”

Because of her beauty, Jermaine found it very hard to believe the things she had revealed to him. He simply overlooked her forty years of stressful living and negative associations and involvements and made her feel at ease. After all, this could possibly be the beginning of something meaningful and he felt that he was off to a good start.

“Personally, I admire people that pull themselves out of negative situations and position themselves in positive, rewarding situations.” Jermaine's words were like sweet melody to Karen's ears. He had said all the right things.

Jermaine had been a happy-go-lucky long-distance truck driver earning close to five thousand dollars a month. He was used to having control over his life, which allowed him to have the finer things in life, all but with women. The fact of him making good money, owning real estate, and driving fancy cars had never seemed to promote him in connecting with a decent, sensible woman. Both of his sisters constantly stayed on him about the type of women that he was always attracted to.

“A man with your intelligence, ambition, determination, and brains deserves to have the cream of the crop when it comes to women, but for some reason, Jermaine, you always end up with the bottom-of-the-barrel type; the ones that are on welfare who don't want a damn thing out of life but a county check, some dick, and a man to play daddy for all their kids.”

Jermaine owned four vehicles: a new BMW, an Eddie Bauer version of an Explorer, a new convertible Mustang, and his pride and joy weekend cruiser was his 1937 Fleet-line Chevrolet.

He was decently handsome and extremely intelligent, standing five foot nine, with smooth chocolate skin. He wore his hair in short, neat waves and mostly kept a smile that reflected his happiness and good living.

As Jermaine pulled into the Toys “R” Us parking lot, Stevie was filled with excitement. Entering the store, Stevie glanced around, wishing that he could have everything that his mother was not able to afford.

“Mama, look, Mama!” Stevie said excitedly.

Noticing his exhilaration, Karen handed him his asthma inhaler. “Calm down, Stevie, before you have another asthma attack, boy.” A couple pumps of the inhaler had calmed him a little, but not completely.

“Mama, Jermaine, look at those bikes and scooters over there!”

“Would you like a bike and scooter, Stevie?” Jermaine asked, moving to hold Karen's hand, trying to score some extra points.

“Yeah, that would be cool, but I want that and that and that too,” replied Stevie, pointing his fingers to various toys.

“While you two look I'm going to the restroom,” Jermaine said, then headed down the aisle alone.

Once Jermaine was out of sight, Karen anxiously approached Stevie.

“Call him ‘Daddy,' boy! He wants you to call him ‘Daddy,' I can feel it.”

“But Mama, he's not my—”

“I said call him ‘Daddy,' Stevie. Do you hear me? We both got the opportunity to have a good man in our life and I ain't about to let you blow it. Now you heard what I said, Stevie.”

“Okay, Mama.”

When Jermaine returned, Stevie was joyfully sitting on a bike, smiling.

“Daddy, can I have this one?” Karen played it off and looked at Stevie like she was actually surprised at him calling Jermaine “Daddy.”

Jermaine was taken aback, but didn't want to risk losing Karen's interest. “Are you sure this is the one you want?” Jermaine was now completely confident that he'd won Stevie over.

“Yep, I'm sure.”

“Then so be it, Stevie; it's yours.” Seeing the smile on Stevie's face had actually made Jermaine feel good whether or not he scored any points with Karen. Just to know that he was providing presents for kids whose mother probably wasn't able to afford and their father wasn't supplying gave Jermaine a feeling of gratification. Besides, he had already begun fantasizing about himself, Karen, and the kids all in the same household. If spending a couple hundred dollars was going to fulfill his fantasy, then money wasn't a thing at all.

After gathering a few dolls and toys for Alexus, a bike, scooter, and a few other toys for Stevie, Jermaine—accompanied by his possible ready-made family—paid the cashier, and then happily exited the store. The purchases totaled a little over three hundred dollars. To Jermaine that was a small price for what he was hopefully about to receive.

Jermaine then reached into his wallet and handed Karen five hundred dollars. “Merry Christmas, baby. This isn't much for now, sweetheart, but I can assure you that the best is yet to come.”

Greedily, Karen snatched the money from his hand. “Thank you, Jermaine,” she said, smiling, as she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Jermaine now felt like he'd made a major accomplishment. Karen continued. “I feel that our acquaintance is definitely a part of God's plan. I mean, it's like we're connecting on everything; neither of us drink alcohol or use drugs, we're both single and looking for a meaningful, peaceful relationship, we both enjoy reading and writing, and I really find it amazing that our favorite color is the same color. I mean, it's like the perfect connection. Thank God you made that U-turn, Jermaine. Thank God.” She looked deep into his eyes then slid her hand into his as they strolled back to his truck.

“Yes, we absolutely need to thank God for connecting us, sweetheart. I actually feel that he has much more in store for us, but let's let time and our patience mold this and hopefully all will be good,” said Jermaine, caressing her fingers. He desperately wanted another kiss, but didn't want her to think that he was being too pushy or aggressive. As if she was reading his mind, she put her arms around him and gave him a long, wet, kiss. Stevie had no objections now to Jermaine being intimate with his mother. Observing them kissing, he had simply covered his eyes and remained silent.

It was 9:30 p.m. when Jermaine dropped Karen and the kids off at the one-room shack she was renting from a man she'd met at a cocaine anonymous meeting. Their night ended with a long, wet, kiss and a grind so fierce that it had set the both of them on fire.

Once inside Karen had excitedly told her landlord, Mr. Pete, about her day with Jermaine.

“I didn't know there were still men like him in this world, Mr. Pete,” Karen said. “I mean, damn, he's an ultimate complete package. He drives one of those big rigs for a living, he's handsome, intelligent, ambitious, Stevie loves him, he's never been into gangs or drugs. I mean, what more can a woman ask for? He's a one-of-a-kind man, that's all I know. And would you believe that Stevie already calls him Daddy?”

“That doesn't surprise me at all, Karen. Hell, that boy will call any man Daddy about right now,” replied Mr. Pete, sarcastically.

On a few occasions, after Karen's kids were asleep, Mr. Pete had quietly opened the door to Karen's bedroom and stood naked, massaging his penis in hopes to get an erection, but unfortunately he couldn't get it up.

“Karen, wake up,” he would whisper. “I need some pussy and I'll bet you've got some good stuff between your legs. I can tell by the way you walk, girl.” Being seventy-eight years old didn't decrease his sex drive. The only thing was that mentally he wanted it, but physically he couldn't get a hard-on. He had once been told that smoking so much crack in the past caused his penis to be a dead soldier.

“No, Mr. Pete, no. I told you when I moved in that this will be strictly business and no sex, so get that out of your mind.” Glancing at his penis, she observed that it was short, wrinkled, and limp.

“Well, come play with it a little bit. Please? I'll deduct a hundred off next months rent, and if you give me a little head, I might even forget about the rent,” he said, still massaging his penis.

“Get outta here, Mr. Pete! Now!” yelled Karen.

“Come on, Karen. I need some lovin'. Please, just give me a little bit and I'll be all right.”

“I told you, no.”

“Then fuck you, bitch! I don't want you using my goddamn telephone anymore, and don't use my fuckin' dishes to cook for you and your fatherless kids, either! Hell, all I wanted was a quick piece of pussy and everything would have been all right, but no, you've gotta cherish that pussy of yours like you're a fuckin' nun or somethin'! You wasn't cherishing it when you were giving it away to those no-good, dope-smoking, gangbangers! But now you wanna put a lock on the muthafucka! Bitch!” Then he would slam the door and go back to sleep.