To Frances by John Patrick Robbins

                  

"You know your never going to amount to anything with your lack of drive J.P."

Frances May Ethridge was a miserable old bitch who found great pleasure in abusing children .

She hated life and therefore took it out on the helpless victims often referred to as students of Knotts Island Elementary.

I was just one of many .
She was a strange ass woman .

She always wore tight ass sweaters and had a pair of huge tits .

They certainly stuck out but that was about all she had going for her.

She always singled me out .

I was often sick cursed with a bad gut.

Ulcers kicked my ass big time and the bullshit of dealing with rednecks and grown up bullies was enough to push anyone over the edge .

I sat there in the principal's office yet again I cannot remember why.

"J.P. you can't just go home every time you don't feel good ".

"I understand that miss Etheridge I just am sick I can't help it ".

"Are you sure that's it or is it you just want to go home ".

I knew the conversation was pointless I had ulcers but she believed it was some kind of act .

It was insanity I had to literally have the doctor write out a fucking note explaining to these halfwits why I needed to be able to use the restroom on a regular basis .

It was hell and I was a fucking inmate nothing more .
You know your life is total shit when even the bullies felt bad for you.

Course it didn't stop them from kicking the crap out of me but least they seemed to enjoy it less and less.

And being that big tits Ethridge thought it was a act they made my life a living hell.

I was made to go see a therapist because of my hatred for school .
When your bullied by kids and grown ups from opening bell till the time school was out .

No wonder I hated it.

"J.P. can I ask you something? , What do you want to be when you grow up ?"

"A writer ".

She laughed looking at me from across the desk .

Then she said the one thing that stuck with me and always will .

"J.P. with your lack of focus I'm going to tell you something that someone should".

"You'll be lucky to be the janitor of this school one day let alone a writer".

I said nothing and although in agony I simply went back to class and tried to be invisible as best I could ".

I was fat,  I was awkward but I wasn't twisted as those who tormented me .

There was something in them to me it smelled of fear.
Ignorance breeds it internally like cancer .

They beat me down like a dog on a chain .
But in doing so they created a wolf .

Later that day at recess a few kids decided it was time to play with their favorite punching bag.

The teachers could have gave a damn less .
Living in a backwoods shithole half of them were related to the little piss ants .

Two went to grab me to hold my arms most times I never did anything .

This wasn't one of those times .

I was big I was also strong .
And for some reason I had enough of the shit .

Once you truly snap a bully will shit his pants .
I threw those three kids around like toys and took the one whom always lead the shit and tried to put his head through a brick wall.

The teacher cared then.
They thought I was insane I would show them insane .

It was later before school let out the loudspeaker announced as always .

J.P. Robbins please report to the principal's office your mother's here to take you to albermarle.

Usually this made my fellow students laugh .
The resident loony was off to the fucking therapist I was forced to see cause I was surrounded by far crazier people than myself .

I stood up .

They usually all snickered .
Nobody dared to laugh anymore .

Violence saved me it gave a moron something to fear I spent recess writing in old comp books.

Kids left me alone parents didn't want me around their kids .
I grew up fast abuse does that.

I learned to develop a sharp wit to fight those bigger than me .
I simply wanted to be left alone .

I never became the janitor of the school but I am a published writer .

Sorry to let old Frances down.

The truth hurts and the past is what forges us as men .
I buried mine hope you enjoyed my happy childhood .

Being a child was the worst hell I  ever experienced .

Just get through it best you can kid .

John Patrick Robbins.

Is the editor and chief of The Rye Whiskey Review

A full time drinker and barroom poet who's work has been published with.

Horror Trash Sleaze, Outlaw Poetry, Red Fez, Romingos Porch , The Academy Of Heart And Mind , Synchronized Chaos, Boned Magazine, Blognostics , Inbetween Hangover's, Your One Phone Call, Blue Pepper , Spill The Words,Piker Press, Rasputin, Poetry Of The Moon .

His work is always unfiltered .