To make a long story short, after jacking his best friend up in the corner, he confirmed that Sonny, who is now my 2nd ex, was in fact at the George Thorogood concert in Georgetown, D.C.. After threatening his life in various fashions, after painting a torturesque picture of what would, can and will be done, he fessed up that he not only went to the concert but he confirmed my suspicions that he'd gone with this Cindy chick.
I called my ex-husband and played the do it for your kids card. Did I mention that my 1st husband was a Sergeant of Arms for the Pagans MC? I told him to round up as many guys as he could. I was calling in a favor for all the Holiday meals I had so charitably provided, sometimes upwards of 30 guys. After a Thanksgiving meal with the Pagans, you'll never be the same. Wayne, my husband, came within the hour. With him were 3 car loads of guys and 7 guys on bikes. That alone made me feel good!
See, I could take the ass whipping he'd given but then you are going to screw around on me too? Ain't happening and once I told the guys the plan, we loaded up and drove from Fairfax, Va. to Georgetown about 20 minutes away. He was at a Bar called The Bayou, which staged concerts. I'd never actually been inside but had driven by. There's a huge parking lot, across the street and I immediately spotted Sonny's blue Oldsmobile. It was our car but I'd paid for it and he put it in his name. Dickhead!
We all parked and they waited outside as I went into the Bar. I was going to catch him, red handed, call him everything but a white boy Indian and of course, he'd follow me out to give me a good ass whipping. It was a beautiful plan. But as I walked in the door, I was met by bouncers, asking for a ticket to enter. What a dumbass I was, not thinking it through. I had every intention of him coming out to whip my ass, only to be met by some of the meanest SOB's on this planet. I wanted them to just hold him, while I beat him worse than he had beaten me. I was going to scream in his face like he did to me cause I didn't want cheese on my hamburger. I was going to ask him who he was fucking and why he had to do some fucking "Jane Fonda" diet, who was I trying to look good for? Yes, that's why he smacked me in the first place, well that and when he called me a good for nothing whore I told him to "suck a dick." Boom down I went but I came up swinging like I always did. I got my ass beat down but he knew I was there.
So, what to do? It would be about 2 hours before the concert would be over. It was suggested that we disable his car, so when he came out, he had to at least wait for a ride or tow truck. I was all for that. Fuck it! They took the coil wire and stabbed the front tire. I was having too much fun at this now and handed them all his cassette tapes, "here take this stereo, while I slice up his seats." It was a memorable moment of camaraderie and better than going to the beach. So, now what?
We decided to go to one of our old haunts, a bar off of 14th St. As we were driving off, I pulled out my husbands 9mm, tucked in the seat beside him and took a shot at Sonny's windshield, right where his head would be. Yes, this was a Kodak moment.
It was like old times as we downed shots and reminisced. I kinda missed all those nasty bastards. They were not the kind you'd want on your bad side, even on a good day but they were good to me and always treated me with the utmost respect.It was even good to be with my husband again. Yes, we were still married and were till the day he, Wayne died. We'd had our differences and grown apart but that's not to say that we didn't have a love for each other. We remained friends.
We burnt up a couple of hours, actually 2 1/2, drinking and smoking, joking and choking. We all bailed out, headed back for The Bayou only to find out,we'd missed him. He'd left with the girl, that fat bitch Cindy and later stated that had he had a ride home, he would have never gone with her, never slept with her, never, never, never. Lying bastard.
He rolled in the next morning, looking guilty as hell. He told me, he was stranded in D.C. that somebody fucked his car up real good, stole his stereo and it looked like they shot his windshield. My husband was in the bedroom, gun locked and loaded. Of course, I had some extra hair on my ass, knowing that, when I told him that it was me that fucked up his car and I shot his windshield, right where, "Your rat ass head would have been.You should've never fucked around on me. I've been good to you and if you wanted out, all you had to do was be a man and say so. No, instead, you were the pussy you are and snuck out to fuck around. You are by far the biggest piece of shit I have ever met, Sonny. Now, get the fuck out." As he turned to leave, he said he'd not fucked around but only gone to the concert with a whole bunch of friends from the Club, Maxim's where he was the Bouncer. I later found out that part, to be true. In my heart, I knew he'd not been faithful but even when he called me, all the way from his mother's, in Pa., he was adamant that he'd gone home with this girl cause he had no ride (Liar Liar) and had slept on the couch cause they were too drunk to drive from her house to bring him home. What he didn't know was that I'd figured out his plan, when I'd seen a napkin in his car console with a phone number on it. It was a number and a name, "Cindy." When I saw it, I copied it down and put it back in the exact place it was. The day of the concert, after he'd gone to use the pay phone, I'd gone to the car, while he was in the shower. The number, was laying right out in the open, that ballsy bitch!
I cooked up a plan, to get the truth. A couple of weeks had gone by and I decided to call this big titted slut, Cindy. I drove to the pay phone. By the way, we didn't have a phone as he'd had it turned off so I couldn't call the police or talk to family, yes, he was that much of an asshole. So, I dialed the number and a chick answered. "Is this Cindy *****?" She answered that it was and I told her my name. I'm calling as a courtesy, trying to be nice," and she said "OK." I hesitated a minute and told her I had some bad news, to which she, "Oh, really?," in a timid, questioning way. "Uh, I don't know how to tell you this but I am Sonny's girlfriend and I just came from the Doctors. " She said "Oh, really," again, this time alarmed.
"Yea and that son of a bitch gave me Gonorrhea." She almost yelled, "What?" "Oh yea, that fucking prick is infected and you'd better get checked and get some medicine." "Oh my god, oh my god. I will, thank you. Bingo!!! He didn't have Gonorrhea but I knew, from the way she commented, that they'd slept together.
Sonny talked his way back into my life, after showing up on my doorstep, in tears and telling me, he was so very sorry and he loved me, yada, yada, yada. Unfortunately, I thought I really loved this guy and I did for many years after that. Almost one year later, to the date, he beat me so badly, I was taken to the hospital. He went to jail that night but was released two weeks after that. Four days later, I shot him, point blank in the stomach with a .22 Rifle. Now, that folks, is a Fatal Attraction and I'll bet when he hears George Thorogood's, "Bad to the Bone, " he's never been the same, huh?
So, the point of this post was simple; lil Sister, dedicated this song to me, the other day. She said it reminded her of me, every time she heard it. Gotta love it!