Bitchmaker

By G.F. Morris

Even in 1952 the hospital that I was born in was antiquated. My mother it seems was always just outside of my physical reach, on those rare occasions when she was not at work, at church or catering to my father. She poured motherly love on me. These one on one time were far and few in between and never enough. I tried to prolong the attention by crying which only resulted in me being spanked (no one likes a loud mouth crying brat). It soon became clear to me the less attention I brought to myself the better it was for me, all the way around. There was plenty of laughter in my house but not by me. I learned not to cry when I was hungry. I learned it was better to wait for someone to notice that I needed changing and maybe they would remember to feed me or maybe not. I learned to crawl off by myself and listen to the tone of voices around me thereby gauging when it was safe to show myself and how I would be treated, these signs and symbols I filed away. Since it was females who God put in dominion over me, it was my goal to one day reverse those roles, it was out of these resentments that I wasted a lifetime turning women into bitches by inflicting emotional and physical harm on them. These dysfunctional character defects were the result of being the only boy child in a houseful of hedonistic women. This book is about the baggage I brought into my relationships which caused a lot of women in self defense to become bitches which is the reason for my repenting of the sinful hurt I inflicted on others as well as upon myself and how I recovered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477254202

G.F. Morris

Even in 1952 the hospital that I was born in was antiquated. My mother it seems was always just outside of my physical reach, on those rare occasions when she was not at work, at church or catering to my father. She poured motherly love on me. These one on one time were far and few in between and never enough. I tried to prolong the attention by crying which only resulted in me being spanked (no one likes a loud mouth crying brat). It soon became clear to me the less attention I brought to myself the better it was for me, all the way around. There was plenty of laughter in my house but not by me. I learned not to cry when I was hungry. I learned it was better to wait for someone to notice that I needed changing and maybe they would remember to feed me or maybe not. I learned to crawl off by myself and listen to the tone of voices around me thereby gauging when it was safe to show myself and how I would be treated, these signs and symbols I filed away. Since it was females who God put in dominion over me, it was my goal to one day reverse those roles, it was out of these resentments that I wasted a lifetime turning women into bitches by inflicting emotional and physical harm on them. These dysfunctional character defects were the result of being the only boy child in a houseful of hedonistic women. This book is about the baggage I brought into my relationships which caused a lot of women in self defense to become bitches which is the reason for my repenting of the sinful hurt I inflicted on others as well as upon myself and how I recovered.

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© 2012 by G. F. Morris. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/30/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5421-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5420-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Contents

It’s Not Over Until It’s Over

Dream Snatcher

How Am I Wrong, I Only Did The Exact Same Thing As You!

For The Love Of Money

Amen

Entourage

Another One Bites The Dust

I Give Chances To All Except To Myself

What Not Again?

Hell Yea I Like Easy Money Too

When Will I Learn

Here I Come Ready Or Not

Gifts On Surviving

Wake Up Call

Man Where Do They Keep Coming From

Like A Bad Penny

A Life Worth Saving

A Life Worth Saving

All About Me

I Completely Understand But Still That Do Not Make It Right

Last night found me riding all over town borrowing money to finance a drudger’s night out. My first order of business was to take the pain away after which all thoughts of going home would be all but forgotten. I was feeling good in no mood for the routine predictability that awaited me there. My reason for even being out and about was that I had been in so much pain (both physical as well as mental stress) the last few days so much so that I was convinced only street pharmaceuticals could take the agony away. Trouble was Grandview was dry even my regular person was out so into the city I went.

From where I started to where I meant to conclude my transaction was only twenty plus miles away. Yet it was far enough that my whole life and how I came to be in this sorry space and time invaded my presences as I slipped into automatic pilot.

I have told my story of being betrayed by my nephew before but I have never shared the whole story. In accepting his nature it was revealed to me that men can become bitches too myself included. Because I refuse to let his name come out of my mouth ever. Hereafter he shall be referred to by me as PEW his initial. It turns out that if you tack on the letters EEE to the end of his initial you have PEW-EEE, which is most appropriate because everything that comes out of his mouth smells to high heavens. The question is how did I came to feel this way? When in the beginning I loved him more than I loved myself. For it was through him I desperately clung to the elusion that I could relive my life. I have other nephews but it was pew that I loved the most. He resemble me the most, some go so far as to say that he is my spitting image, something I no longer find joy in. He is a good-looking light-skinned brother at least 6'ft 4in in height and possesses a gifted tongue just like me. To farther complete the comparison there is something inside of him that I hate this thing that is inside of him that I hate is inside of me as well. We both harbor the character defect of turning from a man standing up right to a lying belly slithering snake as venomous as that infamous snake that brought down the Garden of Eden. Pew like me has an extremely addictive personality I do not mean drugs although that too. The lying, the viewing of everyone as a potential mark especially those who love you the most, family. Before I came to love my family as I do now almost to distraction. It was fast and sure money to claim having had an eye opening revelation from god. This was followed by a tragic story of how I tired to persuade my woman to change her ways and come to Christ as I have. With tears in my eyes (pew can cry real tear as can I at will) I spun a yarn of how because I would not give her money for drugs she ran off with the food and bill money they had turned off my water (true) and I could not even flush my toilet pew-eee no pun intended this worked on everybody except my niece being the empiric that she is. Over the years this work many times on the saints in the church, family and friends of the family. I should say my sister’s friends for I had none of my own I was a friend to no one because I trusted no one especially women. This mind set went on (the way I saw it, it was my God given right to get money from my family anyway I could even if I had to use thinly veiled threats) until one night where I was sitting at the bar inside of my sister’s night club the Chalet Lounge. My sole purpose for being there was purely monetary I was determine to harass her out of some money. The trouble was she was just as determine not to give me any. Knowing full well what I was going to do with it. To farther complicate matters there was this idiot setting on the bar stool next to me who kept interrupting the conversation that I was trying to have with my sister.

By and by Ree was called to the cash register.

I took the opportunity of her being out of earshot to turn toward the meddlesome drunken fool next to me and asked as politely as possible if he would please quit butting his nose into the conversation between my sister and I. F-ck you, to say that I was more than stunned is putting it mildly. Excuse me you do not know me. Everybody knows that you are a crack head Roc says that you are a brother with all the potential in the world but who is to shiftless to go out and make a life for yourself instead you rather beg money from your sister. The truth hurts and so it was with the words that spewed like venom from this stranger’s mouth. With the mind set of you hurt me, I hurt you once again I allowed my emotions to over rule my intellect. I asked the bar maid for something to write with she handed me a pencil and an order pad, which was unnecessary for what I had in mind I only needed the pointed pencil. My reaction or should I say over reaction was to grab a handful of Geri curl, snatch back his head and plunge my make shift weapon deep into his eye. I had been too engrossed in getting money from my sister to notice his friends had surrounded the person I attacked, an oversight on my part. Ree which is what I have called her for over sixty years was hollering and crying, she was shouting all of this because I will not give you my hard earned money so you can go and buy crack with it. With that, she snatched open the cash register draw and began throwing money here you S O B, she threw nickels dimes and quarters pelting me with them. Two things that should be noted here the first is that in all the years I have spent around Ree I had never heard her cuss before or since that night. The second thing is no matter how upset she was at the time not a single dollar bill did she throw imagine that. The words of the intruder added to Ree in her own way calling me a nickel and dime sob tore at my self-respect but the final straw was yet to come. The friends of left eye were issuing threats several had drawn guns (was I the only motherfucker who was searched on the way in). IF possible my sister cried even louder please do not kill my brother oh God! Somebody anybody please do not let them kill my brother. Roc had observed the whole thing but had chose to stay back, now moved by his wife crying intervened. He left the owners throne a stool station in the corner where the front door could be monitored. This was necessary in order to keep an accurate head count at five dollars a head the cover charge was constantly totaling over two three grand a night the cover charge needed protection from the doorman so Roc trusted only his self to keep count. For a brother with only one good eye when it came to counting money he could see at night better than a cat wearing glasses. Touched by his wife’s tears he made his move his moves were deliberate he situated himself between me and the would be shooters. The hand he placed upon my left shoulder was squeezing the nerve that is located there. This action made me realize just how close my life was to being over (Do not cry for me Argentina-Ree). Turning toward what now had turn into a mob he calmly said this is my wife’s brother even thou he is trifling he is still my wife’s brother.

My actions my desperate persona on that night was the turning point that started me on the road that would eventually lead me back to sanity but on this journey in between here and there were a million demons within that had to be slain.

IT’S NOT OVER UNTIL IT’S OVER

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August 11, 2012 and still there are questions that I continue to ask myself one of which is life, what is it good for? Some say absolutely nothing. There was a point in time in my life that I felt exactly the same way. I mean you are born to die and that is not a whole lot to get motivated about now is it. There are many mysteries that will never be fully understood by me, the pyramids, and the monolithic nature of people. The lascivious nature of mankind, it is hard for me to imagine that the people of Sodom and Gomorrah were so depraved that they meant to rape angels. This was of olden times to be sure yet do not the pedophilia atrocities of today surpass the longing to have set with the innocents of yester year are not our babies today consider red to be little angels. Many years I wore the badge of righteous indignation against any thing that beat the underdog (GO Chiefs). I gave myself over to my mother’s philosophy be a doormat let people walk all over you. The problem was I heard (with my ears and not with my eyes) only what I wanted to hear because in her also was a survival trait that border line the law. It takes a fool to catch a fool she was known to say. Case in point she had a dial a prayer hot line before the government knew otherwise she did this while seeming being a ignorant person. The arrogance of Mr. Charlie allowed her to be paid a lot of non-taxable cash through the mail, you go mom. Maybe mother had a mouth on her which is why my father beat her (lord knows she could talk them rich guilty white folks out they money over the phone prop-up laying in bed while her maid iron and cleaned). Long wavy black hair paper sack brown (she so desperately wanted to be high yellow) about five feet—five low to the ground and wide in the back she was a looker. Apparently she managed it well for she left my father to never look back and not a one of us lost a single pound. While there is a story to be told about those times of old all I am willing to say is even though she was save she was still a good-looking woman which men desired. For when she smiled with that gold open face crown with those snow white teeth and pink gums men would gather around with open wallets as if she was a bitch in heat. In addition, just maybe after being done so badly by my father she had a right to be, talk about Jesus. My mother had a great influence in my taste for women except I prefer what she wanted and could never have, to be light skinned. I like my women fat shapely and high yellow king Oedipus mentality I give you that, just another demon to slay. I learned a lot at my mother’s feet my favorite spot was reading the bible on the floor on the side of her bed where through osmosis I learned to take a person fears, guilt and ignorance of the word of God and get paid thanks mom.

There were a time that I was being groomed to take over my father churches I knew the talk and could walk the walk with the best of them. My step-father poured everything about the saints into me, who to watch and who could be trusted the latter of which were few. It became my dream as well as my parents for me to be bishop one day. If only I had listen, a saint of the church hated on me said I was nothing but a fake and she showed me a passage in the bible that spoke of double damnation for whosoever shall lead God people in error. Out of ignorance and to scared to admit my misgivings I started acting out of control. After some money from the offering plate came up missing, I was turned aside for a child hood friend who first sermon was preached in my father’s church and today, he is district Bishop of one of the largest region in the United States Kansas City. My first big dream lost because some one misquoted the scriptures and my big dumb ass believed them over the years I have been plagued with what if it was I my father groomed to completion and I was now Bishop of the largest district in the country Bishop Greg. Morrison but instead I formed yet another bitter resentment against another female.

DREAM SNATCHER

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It was amidst tears and hopelessness that I came to realize that it is pointless to have dreams or goals only to have them snatched away by other people or for that matter you yourself. First, there is not a snowball chance in Hades of being successful until you rid your mind of trash. I found out that taking out the trash in itself is not enough it is a never-ending battle to free your mind and keep it free of trash. Expanding your mind is essential and has its own reward. To keep your mind in good working order you must expand it. To keep trash cleaned from your mind successfully you must fill the space that is left empty with knowledge, useful knowledge that will keep you coordinated mind body and soul (trilogy, ask yourself what?). There is a poplar female TV personality whom I simply adore who once wrote a book called battles of the mind. Which simply means a mind divided. In order to due battle their must be two opposing sides. Being double minded will rob you of your dreams and goals faster than any thing else will that is of the world. While being double minded is not the only thing that will hinder your success never the less being, double minded is where success and failure starts and ends James 1:4-8. Considering my last book where I repeatedly took the trash out of my mind, which in turn allowed me to clean up certain areas in my life as well. I was only able to do so by becoming willing to embrace the good and the bad in all of us. While this requires trusting others, the processing of an open mind to freedom and the ability to think rationally is a struggle. I am fifty nine years old with degenerative arthritis chances are I may never be called upon to defend my country and while I might not be able to physically put on a uniform and fight the enemy in the trenches. Mentally and spiritually, I am ready and willing and that is all that anyone can ask of me, is that I be willing to serve. Not being open-minded will cause you to not only be judgmental of others but will allow others to judge you as well. You can choose to believe it or not but it takes a lot of energy in acquiring success or being a failure. Consistency is the key if you use what God given talents that you have (and we all do have talents) for the good of others your success is garunteed for that is in keeping with the will of God, loving one another the first step toward your complete sanctification which is the perfect will of God. If you use those same gifts selfishly then it is you who have drawn first blood and the battle is on, self against self. Because there are two sides to me (the good side and the bad side) I often become weary of striving to be Christ like, I tire of turning the other cheek yet I labor on doing what I am suppose to do which was instilled in me as a child. The result of me having asthma as a child was, when I did something that offended the righteousness of my parents I was placed in time out. While in time out, I was compelled to read bible verses that pertained to my particular transgression. I do not know the how and why of things but my station of punishment was this big overstuffed chair placed in front of this large picture window in our front room. In the living room where the lighting was good, I would be handed a bible and was commanded to read. In the winter it matter less to me because I could read with the best of them, I mean who wanted to go outside in the cold anyway. Now in the summertime that was a horse of a different color located right across the street adjacent to old man Haywood’s chicken coups was the neighborhood’s makeshift ball field. You can only imagine what degree of inter conflict that waged war in my mind. My resentments born of having to sit there caused me to lose love for everybody especially my peers who kept taunting me to come out side and play they could see me as well as I could see them.

These were the times that I begged to be seated elsewhere my pleas was ignored by my mother and the battle in my mind begun. How can something that was supposed to be good for me hurt me so much, the saying of no pain no gain was unheard of by me as of yet.

I thank God every day for giving my mother the wisdom to place that over stuffed chair in front of that window, because while it may have taken a while I learned how to do what I am