A Jealous Trailer Park Girl

(I was putting in some pot lights and crown moulding for this fancy mansion on the hill, and happened to meet an old friend I knew from my trailer park days. I said I was surprised to see her living there, and she was only too happy to tell me her story. I thought she was very mean but she said I could make her story public. I think it says somewhere that jealousy is cruel as the grave. There aint no girl, like a jealous girl)

Some call it a crab in a barrel mentality. Others call it bitch on bitch crime. I call it wanting to be one up on all my American trailer park sisters.

I don't want no horny bitch stealing my man, whether he be black or white. And I don't want no fellow trailer park bitch prancing around town with a better man then mine. Nor do I want her being better dressed than I am, either. Call me evil if you want to, but it's just a philosophy I have.

So when my best friend Clarise showed up with a hot looking rich boy in tow, and he was wearing designer clothes, and driving an eighty thousand dollar BMW, I began to become unglued. What's that motherfuckin' ho bitch friend of mine doing with such a sweet boy? She don't even smell good.

Damn bitch ain't cleaned all that rotting man cum out from between her legs since dinosaurs still roamed the earth. And what is up with her floosy dress? If the material in her dress was any tighter it would fire her damn giant ass like a slingshot all the way to Mars and back.

And just look at those sorry ass fake fingernails of hers. Pity the poor marrying boy that takes her upstairs on their honey moon only to find out ain't no part of her even real! Her hair is a damn wig, and when it's not a damn wig, she done got so many extensions woven into her scalp that you can weave a damn plastic rug with just half of them. And her middle name outta be 'gums' cause if you done took out all her dentures that'd be all you were left with, gums.

And just what is up with that sorry ass makeup? Her face looks like it fell into a can of rouge paint after some aliens dyed her eyelids metallic blue like the damn broken down rust bucket blue Ford parked in her driveway.

And I ain't smokin' around her neither, cause the gas pouring out of that foul bum hole of hers, if ignited, could take out a whole city block. But I still don't know what smells worse, her cock sucking breath, or her nose tweaking soaked underarms.

Hmmm, I sure don't hope she's about to show him her saggy, knee knocking breasts without a push up bra to keep the damn things from dragging through the mud on a rainy day. And where does it say that you're allowed to cram a size twenty-two body into a motherfucking size fourteen dress? She looks more like two hundred pounds of potatoes crammed into a one hundred pound burlap sack, all lumpy, and ready to explode and tear out the seams like some poor elastic band that can't stretch no more!

And where'd she learn to walk? On a hookers corner?

I'd hazard a guess she does her shopping at a used thrift shop, only I know the stuff in their stores is a lot better than that. At least have some pride, girl! You're bringing down the entire trailer park race with that ratty wardrobe of yours!

And those gaudy trinkets she tries to pass off as jewelry? OMG!!!!!!!!!! Give it up, girl. That junk hanging around your neck and dirtying up your ears...is it really necessary to keep reminding us that hey! This uneducated bitch friend of mine ain't got no class!

And when you talk? If yer gonna not use words properly, just close yer mouth, girl. That's right, simply sew up those lips of yours and take a course in the proper use of English before you foul the air with more than just your stinky fish breath.

And make sure that new beau of yours is gonna keep taking you to them fancy restaurants you've been boastin' to everyone about, cause the way your poor momma tells it, the inedible slop you cook now and again isn't fit for even that mangy pet dog of yours. Every time you fill your parent's garbage cans with your cooking leftovers, why every morning after you see all the cats just laying in your driveway, groanin' and a moanin' over the sorest bellies this side of the Mississippi, and those that aren't sick are dead, their poor four paws stuck stiff in the air like corpses full of overripe poison from your damn stovetop!!!

Clarise, Clarise, Clarise! When are you gonna learn to at least use a lipstick that costs more than half a dollar. The one you got plastered over those rough uneven lips of yours is coming off every where, onto your coffee cups, onto your boyfriend's cheek, onto your cigarette butts, and even onto the burger buns you cram into that shovel mouth of yours two at a time! Yuck! Where's a gag bucket when I need one?

And the way you shake those thunder thighs and massive hips of yours, kind of reminds me of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. You need to lose more than a few pounds before showing of your flabby booty like that.

And I aint gonna call you no more to see how you're getting along with your new rich beau, even if we are supposed to be best friends 'n all. Girl, talking with you on the phone is like talking to some zombie with a single digit IQ. It's kind of hard to follow you when you're unable to string more than two words together at a time. What grade did you graduate from, grade seven? Ain't you never heard of high school?

My phone rings. I gaze at the number. Speak of the devil.

"Hi Clarise. How you gettin' along with rich boy?"

"Rich boy has a name. Harold."

"Rich boy Harold, has a nice ring to it."

"Honestly Sophia," she says to me. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were jealous of my new boyfriend."

"Who me? Jealous of you with that new handsome rich man of yours, tossin' money round like it grew on trees? Girl, you know I'm happy for you. You need to get a grip. You been breathing in too many fumes from that overheating, twelve year old Ford engine of yours. I think it's wonderful you found such a great guy."

"Hmmm, okay, thanks. Listen, I need a favor. You remember last year you was telling me about that pill you took once?"

I struggle to remember just what the hell she is talking about.

"You know, when you had sex and your man didn't wear no glove the night before."

"You mean birth control pills?"

"No. I ain't been using none of those. I think they call it the morning after pill."

A light bulb finally goes off in my head. She is talking about the emergency pill you can get at the drugstore or clinic when your man was simply too damn hot the night before to pull out on time, and he ended up filling you with his baby making batter.

"Oh, I know what you're talking about. Does that mean that money man and you are finally getting between the sheets?"

"Yeah, it does. He's a really good lover. Went for a whole two hours. Only he don't like wearing condoms on account of he says that they get in the way. He wants me to get some birth control pills, and I said I would, only my appointment with my doctor to get hooked up with them is a whole two weeks away. In the meantime, if I had some of those emergency pills, then-"

A broad smile suddenly plasters itself across my mischievous jealous face. Not only am I jealous of my best friend, but I am insanely jealous of her. I decide to play a rotten trick on her.

"Let me guess, it's not only a Sunday morning, but a holiday as well, and the clinic and drugstores are closed, and you don't want none of his little fishies to fertilize that defenseless big old egg of yours, is that it?"

"Yeah, that's it. I'm only eighteen, and you know how damn strict my parents are. Even though we live in a trailer park, they are Christians, against abortion. For sure they'd want me to keep any damn baby if I ever did fuck up and get preggy. Only rich boy already done told me he ain't ready for no kid, see, and he's already said he'd fuck off for sure and never see me ever again if I try and saddle him with a baby to look after. So if I wanna keep him as my boyfriend, I can't afford to have a swelling belly."

"As it just so happens," I lie. "I got not only a dozen of those emergency pills, but a whole whack of birth control pills as well. Your momma uses the same doctor as you, right?

"Right."

"Well then. You don't want your doctor ratting you out to momma, telling her you're sexually active and looking for birth control pills. Why don't you swing by and I can hook you up with both kinds of pills and show you how to use them."

"Thanks, Sophia. You're a real life saver. Sorry for doubting you as a true friend. I'm a bit short of cash though, and I know you must have paid for them. I could owe you the money you paid for them?"

"Nonsense! Don't worry about money. The pills will be a gift from me to you."

"Be over in an hour, bye," she yelps excitedly, thinking I'm about to save her bacon when actually, I'm about to fry it in the damn fire. I ain't got no emergency pills left, and I never did have any birth control pills to begin with. What I do have are some generic aspirins, which have no stamp on them. I'll give her a dozen of those and pretend they are the emergency pills. I also have some generic diet pills that are a little larger and yellow in color. They look official. I'll put sixty-two of those in a bag and lie and tell her I took them out of two fancy monthly dispensers so her mom won't know what they are if she happens to find them laying around in her drawer.

I put the two sets of pills into two separate bags and then pace up and down in my tiny room excitedly. Once she gets knocked up she is going to lose her super cool bad assed boyfriend, and she is going to be grounded for a gadzillion years by her furious parents. And, she is going to be forced to carry some snot nosed baby in her belly for a whole nine months, then have to spend all her time changing poo covered diapers and having baby lips stretch out those once mighty fine breasts of hers. I love it! I seriously salivate over messing with her perfect life. In my head I have formulated the perfect plan, only my nefarious mind will add one more simple twist. I am going to get to know her boyfriend a little bit better, making them both feel that I am very supportive of her relationship, only once I am certain she is pregnant, I will call him up, and tell him that his precious Clarise has been pulling a fast one on him. I will lie and say she has been purposely trying to get pregnant to she can trick him into marrying her. That will make him furious, and he will dump her quickly and I will insert myself on the rebound, taking Clarise's place as her man's main new squeeze. My plan is foolproof and I love it.

I can't wait for the little lucky bitch to get here so I can mess with her life royally.

My patience is rewarded when I finally hear the pathetic whine of her droning engine, sputtering and backfiring in my meagre parking lot.

She parks in the dilapidated visitors section like she is supposed to, but ignores the sign saying not to park cars there if they are leaking oil.

I watch as she comes in through the front door and then...then...wait for it...damn, yes! A slam dunk! The buzzer rings, and little miss goody two shoes with the proud Christian parents and wicked figure which I have always been desperately jealous of, is now whizzed into my tiny place by my excited little fingers holding open the door.

She heads inside, and smiles at me, all prim and proper, no longer a damn virgin after her condom free romp in the hay with money bags.

I run happily to the fridge and find a diet soft drink for her. I make myself a tea. A peppermint tea. I only got one teabag left but it's a special occasion, so what the fuck! Besides, I can always plastic bag it and use the bag later.

She nervously bites her gorgeous bottom lip as she stares at me. I guess that shows how anxious she is not to have an unexpected baby packing the pounds onto her perfect figure. Did I say that it was not so perfect before? Maybe I exaggerated. Maybe I fibbed a bit. And maybe I stretched the truth all the way from here to damn Chicago, but one thing's for certain, she ain't gonna have no perfect figure left when I get through with her. She's gonna look more like some giant taco bell with a puffy face and red crying eyes.

I show her a fake plastic smile. No more college scholarship to that ivy league college that approved you, you stupid little twit! Did I say earlier that she never went to high school? Well, maybe she did go to high school, and maybe she did get straight 'A's, but she is too damn stupid to know that I am about to sabotage her so her book smarts don't count, not when you need street smarts to survive.

She kicks off her shows but hesitates.

I am waiting for her to sit on my dingy couch, but she makes up a face at a cockroach, scurrying along the cushion, and then acts all disgusted as a second, larger roach runs over top of her kicked off expensive shoes as it heads for the crumbs in my kitchen. What is up with her? She's all tucked away in mommy and daddy's protective little trailer park, but without the roaches I got.

I can't afford exterminators like they can. I gotta struggle on my own. I'd like to see her afford a park unit on her own little minimum wage pay check. And I ain't got no super buff and super handsome hero to pay my way for me. But fuck her sorry fat ass. She won't have one soon either, not when poor rich little cute boy done gets told by some little birdie that his big breasted fuck machine is turning him into a daddy whether he likes it or not.

And, just like me, this infuriating Clarise may soon have to find that stupid minimum wage job too. Mommy and daddy might just kick her out when they notice some fucking uninvited coconut bump pushing out of her once innocent, slim trim tummy. What's the matter girl? You don't know how to sling burgers or clean toilets as a janitor down at the mall? Not to worry, you'll soon find out, after, that is, you kiss your college scholarship dreams goodbye.

I get her to sit on the couch and it infuriates me that she has the gall to check it out first, skinning up her nose like my cover wrapped stained couch is somehow unexpectedly ghetto. Well we'll see how uppity you are when your bad assed breasts get even bigger with unexpectedly large deposits of baby milk, you snotty, hieghty tighty bitch!

I scurry excitedly out of the kitchen and bring her back the one diet soda I have left.

She pops the top and drinks thirstily.

I show her the two bags of pills, and for a girl that is so smart, you would think she wouldn't be so stupid.

"You only have to take one of these morning after pills now, and then again each time you have sex with Harold."

"With us, it's not just sex," she explains conceitedly. "It's more like making love."

I am ready to explode at this crass assed bitch but I keep my cool. I next show her the fake birth control pills, only she thinks they are real.

"Just take one a day, starting today, and in ten short days they will be in your system and as long as you take one each day, you will never have to worry about getting pregnant."

"Thanks," she spits out, finishing off my last diet soda. I'm surprised she doesn't ask for another one, knowing what a grasping tight assed bitch she is.

"Soooo, what you're saying is," she asks, "is that if we make love again, to keep using the morning after pill, but only for ten more days. Is that right? And to start taking a birth control pill, one a day starting now, along with that other pill?"

"You got it," I said, amazed she is so trusting, and unaware of how she is being played by me.

She takes both pills into her damn pretty mouth, and I bring her a glass of water to wash them down with.

I am horrified that she examines the glass first, trying to make sure it is not dirty. Who does this damn ho bitch think she is, the queen of England? Too good for my glasses? I want to freak right there and then, and toss little miss princess off my tiny lot, but I keep that fake smile plastered onto my face and I pretend as if everything is hunky dorey. Soon enough, if I don't betray my true feelings for this pathetic preppy slut, then I'll have her up the pregnant creek without a frigging paddle. Fuck, I'm good!

We chat mindlessly for the next twenty minutes, and the sound of her snotty voice grates on me like fingers down a damn chalkboard. I try to imagine her perfect sexy figure getting all blown up out of shape with her waddling around like a damn penguin and I smile, only this time it is a for real smile!

When she finally leaves, I prance around my unit like a damn bitch in heat, shaking my oversized booty to rap music as I savor my bitch on bitch crime moment.

XXX

It is exactly one month since I gave her the two fake sets of pills. She is still not suspicious, although on this particular morning, her phone call is more urgent, and for the first time she is no longer bragging of her sexual conquests with super rich Harold.

"Can I come over?" she says, sounding all nervous and bummed out like."

"What happened, trouble in rich boy paradise? You and Harold have a fight or something?"

"No," she says, almost in a mindless whisper. "I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" I try not to snicker, but I relish the moment, savoring her anguish. It is better than chocolate, or sex or even winning the lottery. Finally, I laugh to myself, after all that unprotected fucking she's done!

"Those pills you gave me. You're sure they work?"

"Whatchoo saying, that I don't know what I'm doing?"

"That's not what I meant," she clarifies. "It's just that...that...well-"

"Well what?"

"My period was due last week and it never showed."

I press my hand to my mouth and keep it there. I try not to bust my gut laughing, and I try not to shout out 'Alleluia.'

"And?"

"And, well, I went on line, thinking that maybe I got sick or something."

"Why would you possibly think that?"

"Well, I threw up a few mornings ago, and I seem to have this crazy heightened sense of smell. It's really weird. I also feel hot, and the past week or so I've been feeling cramps in my lower tummy."

"Maybe you got the flu?"

"That's what I thought, so I went online and punched in my symptoms and was shocked at what I saw."

"What did you see?"

"It says I am probably pregnant."

"Not possible, girl. Those pills I gave you are foolproof. Aint no way you can be knocked up. Not with those pills you can't! Unless of course you skipped a day or two?"

There is a pause at the end or the line. She says nothing. I decide to prod her. I want to keep her talking. I am having too much fun. I hope this damn bitch puts on at least forty pounds and keeps it on. That would be the end of her 'too good to be true, ass kicking figure! Good riddance and don't let the door hit you on the way out!

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you skip a day or two?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't think? Either you did or you didn't?"

"You never said nothing about missing one day as being a make or break deal."

"Did you skip a day by accident, do you think?"

She is thinking and finally the verdict comes back. "No, I'm actually positive now that I think of it. I took the first at your place then every day at ten in the morning. I'm certain cause that is when I have breakfast. I always took it just before breakfast. And we made love three more times before the ten days were up. I also took the morning after pill the next day all three times like you said."

"Well relax then. You're definitely not pregnant."

"You sure? There is just so much riding on it. I kind of have fallen in love with Harold, but he'll leave me for sure if he thinks I've tricked him into making me preggo. And then of course I'll end up kissing college goodbye and my parents would freak big time."