Mercoledì, 31 Marzo, 2004 | Posted by Marie Sven Gerkin at 22:47

I hear the crunch of bone as Jesus (my biological father), hits Lionel Gerkin in the face (the father that raised me since a child). It's a bit strange watching my father fight my father.

"Didnth hurth a bith, shihtead." That's Lionel sounding very unconvincing. I hate it when men do this rubbish. They think they are fighting for a woman's honor or something. As if women care. I don't. And Silvia isn't even here.

The only thing that I know about these two is this:

1) Lionel Gerkin brought me up. If someone said describe him, I wouldn't know how. Although I might tell them about his big overcoat. We would often go to a friend's house on winter evenings. We never had a television for some stupid reason. At the end of the night, I would normally go home with Lionel. Silvia would stay behind. By then, she had drunk a few wines and was ready to rhumba. And what ever else she did. I don't want to go there.

Jesus stirkes again. Blood pours from a cut above Lionel's eye. Poor bastard. Why doesn't he just fall over and stay down. Stay down. He swings and hits the side of a barn, but misses the huge jackass inside - I mean Jesus.

1) On those winter nights, Lionel would wrap me inside his warm overcoat. I could look out at the world from in there. I was safe. Nothing could hurt me then. Nothing could get to me. He would sing me songs as we walked. He couldn't sing for shit, but I didn't know that then.

Lionel tries to hit Jesus again. He has just found out that Jesus has been sleeping with Silvia. He has just found out that I am not his daughter. "Come on, Jesthus. Christh I am going to kill you!" As it states in those "Jesus Saves" posters, we know what Jesus has been saving. He cocks an arm and fires and scores. "BANG". Good night Lionel. "I woucha, winda, winoe ..."

2) Jesus Miguel Luis Rodriguez had a fling or two with my mother. I was the outcome of one of those flings. Well, at least she thinks I'm one of his. He came up to me once and grabbed my breasts. "You are developing very nicely" he smirked as he squeezed.

Lionel is packaged meat on the floor. "You call yourself a man? You call yourself a MAN? You are nothing. You have nothing to provide. And no one to provide it to."

I walk up behind Jesus and hit him hard with the baseball bat that I have always kept in my room. He shuts up as I hear the pleasurable sound of wood on bone. And then a thump on the floor.