Valentina got married really young to a complete asshole. This guy was the poster boy for abusive douche bags. He would assign her a curfew whenever she went anywhere without him, controlled who she was allowed to talk to and hangout with, manipulated her family against her, blah, blah, blah. Unfortunately, I’m sure most of you know the type I’m talking about. Needless to say, he hated my guts.
Not surprisingly the marriage didn’t last long and she cut him lose shortly after their first wedding anniversary. This pleased me to no end, especially since by that point I wasn’t allowed in her house anymore. This guy – let’s call him Fucktard – was devastated when Valentina left him. Fucktard was a Captain America type who thought he was the greatest thing to ever walk the earth and was incensed that his wife would have the gall to leave him. He set about trying to get her back, and when that didn’t work he decided he was going to ruin her and everyone around her. Since he gave Valentina no credit for having her own brain, he decided it was my fault his marriage ended. His controlling, obsessive and abusive behaviour had nothing to do with it, of course. He convinced himself, his family, Valentina’s family and anyone else that would listen that I corrupted Valentina and brainwashed her into leaving him. Trust me, if that was possible I would have done it before she married him.
The whole brouhaha surrounding the period of time Valentina was trying to free herself from Fucktard is a long story, but let me just say it went on for months. Fucktard would routinely call me at all hours trying to track her down, park outside my house waiting for me to come home so we could ‘talk’ (in a vain and brief attempt to get me on side, since I was the one controlling her, remember), and he even tried to convince her family (and was briefly successful) that I was a drug dealer who had hooked her on drugs. Yeah, I know. It was all very Days of our Lives. I am not one of those individuals who courts drama, so the whole thing was a major pain in my ass.
Fucktard comes from a redneck family who is…….let’s just say quite lacking in basic social graces. They are the type of people who say ‘I seen it’ and put an ‘s’ on the word ‘all’. They have giant hair and are almost always covered in bruises, cuts and have missing teeth (the men and the women). I don’t recall ever going to any of their trailers, but a hundred bucks says there would be a rusted out 1980’s model camero parked on the lawn. Oh, yes. A very charming bunch indeed. How does all of this tie into the Keely bar fight incident you ask? Well, Fucktard has two sisters.
These girls were pretty much violent, hairier versions of Fucktard. I did feel a little bad for them (the younger one showed up to Valentina and Fucktard’s wedding beaten to a pulp, and the oldest one was a grandmother by age 34), but they didn’t exactly go out of their way to act like civilized adults. True, they may not have known how to act like civilized adults, but I don’t know……something like learning to read might have helped their lot in life a little. Their heads are gigantic; surely they could have used them for something other than backcombing hair.
Anyhoo, Fuckard had no problem convincing these two brain waves that it was all me – I was the sole reason Valentina left him, and I needed to be dealt with accordingly.