Guest Blogger (The Sculptress: Macaroni Monstrosities, Mom’s and Mexico)

Macaroni Monstrosities, Mom’s and Mexico

My Mother, I’m quite certain, will never read this post. I hope. It’s fairly safe to say she’d be mortified, horrified, embarrassed, and humiliated.

Let’s continue, shall we?

Each and every one of us has a lifelong scar within us that comes from the same terrifying place: accidentally walking in on our parents having sex. We heard doors close, we heard giggles, and then we heard strange sounds. Some of us, the incredibly unfortunate ones, actually walked in and witnessed our parents (let’s call it) bliss to our horror, thus creating shock, disgust, internal bleeding and permanent left eye vision loss.

Don’t tell me your own version of events. I don’t wanna’ trade stories on this one.

I recall as a little girl, proudly heading up the stairs to show my Mom the new macaroni art I had created for her. Bursting with pride, I marched to her known place (the den of sin) anticipating a shower of affection and praise. I was unaware of the nightmare that awaited me behind door #1. I didn’t receive any praise. Instead I was greeted with sheer panic, dread and unforeseen monstrosities.

I’ve never been able to stomach macaroni since.

What I can tell you, is what I saw. Skin. Kissing. Kissing of skin. Touching. More skin. Touching of skin. Gross! It was the most chilling show I’ve ever seen. I’ve been to Mexico. I’ve seen some stuff. Nothing has ever come close. Seeing one of your parents bare assed before noon on a Sunday tends to make a donkey show a bit easier to stomach. To this day, my folks still have no idea the trauma they bestowed on me, or that I was even there, because, well…

They were kinda’ busy.

If you are a parent, for Gawd’s sake, even the biggest glass of chocolate milk, a pestered after pay-per-view movie and an endless supply of marshmallows for breakfast are STILL not enough to keep an active child from wandering. Get a sitter, go out for the night, or drop your kids off at Nana and Popa’s. Hmm. Nana and Popa. They had sex too, I’m sure. Ugh. My point is, these scars are real, and they aren’t going away.

On second thought, I hope you do stumble upon this Mom. Your business is now out there, I am breathing a sigh of (shared) relief, and suddenly I have a craving…

For a big bowl of macaroni.


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One Response to Guest Blogger (The Sculptress: Macaroni Monstrosities, Mom’s and Mexico)

  1. The_Sculptress says:

    Gabriel, you have reason to smile. You’re not a victim. Every time I think about this (I think about this??! Ugh) my stomach swirls all over and the disgust I have for my Father (how could he do that to my mom?!?) reignites.

    Man…church even? Your parents are leaders in the world of the game of grab ass. Hahaha…I’m sorry. That’s terrible. Gabriel, let’s get drunk. My Dad is pickin’ up the tab.

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