You know that saying, Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you – well it’s true, the fuckers ARE out to get me. I knew something was going on. But this time, instead of allowing the situation (and the bastards behind it) to overwhelm and control ME, I took Judith’s advice and I spoke to Scotty and here’s what I discovered –
He didn’t come to stay with me because he WANTED to. He came because LOTTIE ASKED HIM TO. He’s been ringing her daily from whatever foreign rathole he happens to be in. To check up on me. To spy on me. The only person I ever trusted not to.
LOTTIE got him to come here by telling him her version of what happened on THAT NIGHT. And his disgust and outrage at her behaviour, the disgust and outrage that seemed real to me (he called her all sorts of things including FAT, DEVIOUS, CONTROL FREAK, and SNEAKY – and I’m going to TELL HER WHAT HE SAID) had been false, a lie, an act put on for reasons I can’t begin to fathom.
He says the new house is real – but he hasn’t bought it like he implied, he’s renting it for 6 months TO SEE IF I LIKE IT. He said if I do like it he has all the arrangements in place to buy it for me. Lying bastard. If there IS a house he can stick it up his sanctimonious, lemon-sucking ARSEHOLE and let LOTTIE move in up there as well. She should feel right at home.
Oh, and he never did order a trepanning kit on the internet, he said he was trying to stop me from getting myself a new hand-drill. Unbelievable. It doesn’t matter though, I remember the internet website the trepanning kit was on so I’ll buy my own fucking trepanning kit. I’ll buy TWO TREPANNING KITS. Or THREE. Or FOUR. Or FIVE. Or SIX. I’ll buy as many TREPANNING KITS as I fucking well want. And I’ll buy another HAND-DRILL. I’ll buy a FUCKING PNEUMATIC DRILL if I decide I want to drill my head with one. Judith is right, NO ONE IS THE BOSS OF ME.
He got angry at one point and shouted at me. He’s never done that before, he is ALWAYS calm and collected, he’s one of those people who never lose their temper so you don’t know if they’re super-cool relaxed types or peaceful-jesus types or plain old psychopaths (I prefer psychopaths, you know where you are with them).
Then he shouted at me AGAIN — “we’re only trying to help you, Dotty, we don’t know what else to do, waaaahh, waaaaahh, waaaaahh, waaaah, waaaah”— so I broke his TRIGGER FINGER by grabbing it and hitting it with my brick and for that I am truly sorry because I know he loves his work and I know the world would have more evil in it if it weren’t for him, but I’m not sorry for kneecapping him with the shovel or for bursting his nose and splitting his lip and chipping his tooth when I headbutted him.
There IS a moral to this sorry story of mine (who the fuck do I think I am, Dotty Aesop?) – if happiness ever comes into your life DO NOT TRUST IT. It isn’t real. It never WAS real, it was only more of the same old shite that life ALWAYS slings – only this time I allowed myself to be tricked into believing in it and, well, there you go, I got a face full of putridness and it was my own fault for being so gullible and stupid and trusting. But I can honestly say that I NEVER imagined in my wildest imaginings that SCOTTY would betray me in the way he has. He’s stabbed me right between the shoulder blades and I am dying of hurt and I am SO CONFUSED – what he has done is beyond belief but WHY he did it – I don’t think I’ll ever understand. I expected it of Lottie, never of him. Shame on you, Scotty, heaps and heaps and heaps of shame on you.
Sorry, Judith, I tried to follow all your advice, but bridges have been well and truly BURNT today and I will NEVER be the one to provide the bricks to build new ones. NEVER.