Child Abuse And Improvised Weapons

IMG_0001 (2)From an early age I was beaten and psychologically abused by my father. My so called father was a degenerate, closet case, faggot. Due to my own naivete he would try to use me as “chicken bait” so he could hook up with other degenerate faggots like himself. I remember being taunted by neighborhood kids about my so called father being a homo and a faggot! I got into a lot of fights over people calling him a faggot in those early years. I still had no idea that he was a degenerate faggot and I even remember clobbering a neighbor kid with a flower pot in his defense.

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From about the age of 10 years old I began to make my own improvised weapons. I knew there was something seriously wrong and weird with my father even though I didn’t actually know exactly what that was. I would make clubs, hooks, spikes, blades, shanks and other improvised weapons and keep them at the ready in case he were to attack me. I packed an old backpack with clothes, weapons and food and hid it in the garage in case I might need to run away at a moments notice.

This shit went on for years, far too many years… I watched, as this piece of shit would abuse my mom, call her names and shit and make her cry. Once he was in a mood he would also attack me for whatever happened to piss him off at the moment. One time after I happened to use some “words” with my sister because she was acting like an annoying bitch.. She goes and rats me out and then I received a 2-hour beating… Two fucking hours of him smacking me, punching me and slapping the shit out of me…Two fucking hours!.. Then.. miraculously, my grandmother shows up with my grandfather because they were supposed to be coming over for the day for swimming and a bbq… Yeah right!

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Well my grandmother walks in and sees what’s going on and comes unglued. She smacks the shit outa my old man..bang bang, whack whack… Stopped him dead! Then, she goes outside to find my mother outside … I don’t know… hanging out, enjoying the fucking garden?.. I don’t know, because I just got my clocked cleaned for two hours …. I hear my grandmother yelling at my mom now out back… My grandfather is just standing there looking at me with a stunned look on his face…

Over the years my so called father would do things like punch me dead in the face and then kick me while I was on the ground. One time I came home to find all of my records, clothes and personal items thrown out my bedroom window into the swimming pool outside. Once, after picking up a friend and I from a show in Hollywood he then proceeded to take us “cruising” for transvestite hookers just off of highland blvd, jokingly of course.. but not.

Through all of this I became the most dangerous kid you’d ever meet on the street. I could take a beating and I was armed and dangerous. Arrested at 12 for an A.D.W. He beat an aggression into me that has lasted a lifetime and served me well. People that fuck with me feel it well after we meet and I don’t feel bad about it… It serves them right!… You see it’s like this.. You treat me good and I will always try to treat you better… Treat me like shit, get mouthy with me and I’m gonna end up treating you like a piece of wood. I don’t talk to wood just like I don’t talk to trees… Wood is meant for burning and nothing more.

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One night I missed my ride and had to lump it the whole way home. I knew I’d be late and I’d have to sneak into the house so I wouldn’t wake up my parents. I came in the front door all quiet like and tried to sneak down the hall to my bedroom. All of a sudden my asshole father leaps out of the darkness onto my back yelling some shit like “a hah I caught you”. Well, ha ha ha… Well…”uh, yeah” I tell him. Then grabbing his legs I say “NO I’VE GOT YOU MUTHERFUCKER”… and laughingly I slammed that mutherfucker into the wall so hard I broke three of his faggot ribs… Ha ha ha ha Fuck you OLD MAN!

Really, the last correspondence I ever actually had with my so called father was through the Restraining Order he filed against me for… Um… I can’t really remember, slips my mind…Ha Ha Ha.

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Perhaps, in the future, if I so happen to live longer than he does… I plan to SHIT on his fucking grave so that every day for an eternity he can smell the shit he created that is me!

“He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.”          Samuel Johnson

Published by jamesgenocide

I'm a Punk Rocker, Musician, Artist, Writer, Craftsman, Historian and Notorious Bastard from The Los Angeles Death Squad.

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