Category Archives: how I killed karen

innocence lost

Posted on October 14, 2009 by chase

As I just mentioned earlier I am going to continue to post some excerpts from my forthcoming book “How I Killed Karen”. These are unedited, brief excerpts so much detail is missing and the flow isn’t great but I’m throwing them up here for my own selfish reasons. As always comments are welcome and appreciated.
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Sometimes I look back on pictures of myself and wonder when my childhood ended. I search my face and body language for clues and stare into my own eyes. When exactly was my innocence lost?

At first I look like such a joyful, happy little girl. I’m smiling, chest puffed out, acting silly – a normal child if you will. As I turn school age the first signs of my change start to become visible. My eyes lose their shine and gloss. They turn dull and lifeless even if I am smiling. My smile changes as well, what was once natural has become forced. The entire shape of my mouth is different as I grin through the pain. My body language also shifts. My arms are crossed over my body, I turn away from people or even the camera. I am no longer an innocent child cheesing for a photo. I have become a tortured old soul merely existing in an adolescent body.
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Balls

Posted on July 31, 2009 by chase

This will be the last excerpt I post from my upcoming book for now. I am on pace and should have all drafts finished by September – yay! Thanks to everyone for your feedback over these past two weeks. I am excited to continue to write and develop as a writer and an individual.

Balls

I am not sure at what age I figured out that kicking a guy in the balls was an effective defense mechanism, but I’ve continued to use the technique throughout life. *Menfolk feel free to groan and hold your balls now* I kicked my father in the balls all the time as a kid. It actually became his instinct to go knock-kneed and cover his crotch whenever I started fighting back as a child. I truly don’t feel bad about that considering he shouldn’t have ever been doing anything to make me have to defend myself in the first place. I am a firm believer in ball kicking, punching, stabbing, etcetera if the situation calls for it. I do however regret one ball kick from my childhood days.

In the 7th grade a classmate of mine named John decided it would be amusing to pull my pants down during gym class when we were playing softball. Hmmm, maybe that’s the real reason I won’t play in a league now? Anyway, this was back in 1990 so childhood school lawsuits had not yet begun. Too bad because I could have sued for all kinds of shit; sexual harassment, bullying, emotional distress…obviously because I am writing about it today I am still bothered by it. Actually I am not so much bothered by the fact that it happened, but that no one thought it mattered. Having my pants pulled down in front of my classmates was mortifying. Combine that with the fact I was in an abusive home where I was molested and sexually objectified and you get one fucked up in the head 12-year-old girl. I still recall so vividly being in the principal’s office and being asked “did he pull off just your pants or your underwear too?”. Because he just yanked down my gym shorts I was told I shouldn’t care and it was no big deal. Are you fucking kidding me? FAIL motherfucker FAIL.
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Bubble Butt

Posted on July 30, 2009 by chase

The other day I read a chat thread where peeps were discussing their childhood nicknames. It inspired me to work on this entry. Bear in mind that again, this is just an excerpt from the story – I am only posting very short versions on the blog, not entire chapters. There is so much more that happened…

As a child many of us have affectionate nicknames our parents and relatives call us by. Sometimes these are sweet and innocent names like “princess” or “love bug”. Other times our nicknames are teasing such as “carrot top” or “shorty”. Many times a nickname is something that comes and goes without affecting us, but sometimes it becomes like a curse that haunts us for the rest of our lives.

My parents started calling me “Bubble Butt” and “Thunder Thighs” (BB & TT for short) when I was in middle school. My pedophile father was always making comments about my big, juicy butt and touched it way too often when I was a child. *pauses to gag for a moment* My mother focused on telling me how fat and lazy I was. My lone sibling fulfilled his older brother duties by also teasing me, but at least he was never malicious.

I struggled with body image throughout adolescence. My body developed womanly curves at a very young age and I didn’t know how to handle my figure, which looked so different to me than everyone else’s. In eighth grade I started flaunting my then already C cup breasts and wearing high heels whenever I could to appear older. I was a thirteen year old child trapped in a body that was far too old for me, that attracted far too much attention from my father *gags again* and other older men.
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Rub One Out

Posted on July 27, 2009 by chase

After the seriousness of my last post I wanted to lighten up the mood. This is a very short excerpt from a chapter on masturbating when I was younger.

Rub One Out (or four)

As a child I collected teddy bears. I didn’t get excited about many other toys but I loved my stuffed animals. My favorite one was a brown teddy bear with a red bow tie. He was a mid-sized bear and had the cutest little button nose. And that little button nose was what I loved the most because I learned at a very young age that rubbing that nose on my nether regions felt really fucking good.

Masturbation is totally normal among young girls starting puberty but no one really talks about it. It was a very common occurrence in my bedroom, my bathroom, and my playroom, and really wherever I could find a private spot to get off. I think most boys learn about wet dreams, soft porn, and jacking off during adolescence, but girls are only told about how we are going to start bleeding. What the hell?

I totally “got caught” getting off one day, albeit not with the teddy bear – just by my hand, and got yelled at for it. My mother called me a pervert and disgusting. I really didn’t understand my body or what was happening, I just knew it felt really good and relieved my stress. Masturbating is still my top pick for stress relief today. Having a bad day? Can’t sleep? Cramps bothering you? Just touch yourself. It works. Seriously.

peace, love, and good booze ~ chase

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One-Night Crack Whore

Posted on July 22, 2009 by chase

The following incident happened when I was 16. I have told very few people bits and pieces but never the entire thing. This is the first time I have ever revealed exactly what happened that night. It still needs to be revised and edited but writing it for the first time was difficult enough for now. *Name has been changed.

One-Night Crack Whore

I met Leroy* while I was working at a national chain department store. He was a black man who I would guess was in his late thirties. He always dressed well in tailored suits and good shoes. He worked in menswear and would always come chat me up while I was holding down the juniors department. He would flirt with me and I loved the attention even though I was not attracted or interested in him. One evening he asked me if I wanted to come party with him one night. He mentioned he had some cocaine he would share and I jumped at the chance to get high and escape my life for a night.

I had bought some coke of my own from some kids who frequented my other job at a family fun center. Nothing like a 16-year-old buying drugs from a 13-year-old with better connections. I used to hide my baggie in a Barney doll I took from the prize case at work. I brought my stash with me to Leroy’s house and after one line he declared it was shit. Instead of getting high I figured I would get drunk instead but he didn’t have anything I wanted to drink. I was ready to leave at this point but I had let Leroy pick me up and drive me to his place. A decision I would soon regret.

Leroy started throwing back Hennessy and then brought out his own stash. Unfortunately his stash happened to be crack. I had tried a lot of things in my sixteen years but crack wasn’t something I ever wanted to do. I quickly discovered crack is one of the foulest smelling odors as Leroy blew it in my face. He was pissed I wouldn’t smoke any and began to berate me. Instead of being my slightly perverted older co-worker he was now a drunk, high scary man.

And then he brought out his gun.

And then he held it to my head and told me I was going to be his whore.
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Phone-a-Friend

Posted on July 21, 2009 by chase

I am playing with how I am writing this story. I am trying to see if I can leave a childlike element in. Again, I have not gone back to edit anything yet so I’m really not sure if I like this one.

Phone-a-Friend

One day in elementary school we had a speaker come in to talk to us about child abuse. Of course she didn’t use those exact words. Instead she spoke to us about people touching our private parts, hitting us, or otherwise making us feel bad. If we felt bad she told us we should use phone-a-friend. We were all given stickers of a teddy bear we could color with the phone-a-friend telephone number at the bottom. I was extremely excited and could not wait to go home and tell the teddy bear everything that was going on at my house, which is exactly what I did.

That afternoon I snuck downstairs to the playroom in our house and called my new friend. I had no idea I would be so special that the teddy bear would send a lady to our house to come visit me. For some reason my mom was really upset I had called the teddy bear. She told me that I should be grateful I lived in such a wonderful house and had a family. My mom said that lots of kids are worse off than I was, and I should stop whining about what my life at home was like. Then she slapped me across the face, paused, and then she slapped me again. I cried and she told me to stop crying because she hadn’t even hit me hard. She offered to hit me again so I could know what a real hit felt like, but I begged her not to and covered up my face while she smacked my arms instead.
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Rookie Cop Take 2

Posted on July 20, 2009 by chase

Since I am taking this out of context you need a bit of back story to understand the following excerpt:
Two cops came to my house one night after yet another physical altercation between my father and I. Old cop (who had been to my house several times throughout the years) and rookie cop. Rookie cop came in, saw the bruises on my neck and promised to help me. Old cop yelled at me, told me I was a brat and I should be grateful for my parents. Rookie cop tried to intervene and old cop scolded him as well and told him to go back out and sit in the squad car. My parents relinquished custody of me shortly after this incident.

Rookie Cop Take 2

At age 18 I once again found myself heading into court, but this time it was not for anything I did wrong. My roommate Misty had gotten drunk one night and decided to borrow my car while I was sleeping. Of course she got pulled over and cited for a DUI and open container. I was pretty pissed off when I got a call at two in the morning telling me my car was getting impounded. My bitch of a roommate didn’t want to pay me for the cost of getting my car out, so I was forced to go to court during her hearing and testify I had not given her permission to take my car that night.

I said my bit and started to make my way out of the Columbus courthouse glad the ordeal was coming to a close. As I walked down the aisle a cop reached out and grabbed my arm to stop me. He stood up with a quizzical look on his face and said “I’m sorry, but did you grow up on Hollandia Court?”. Just hearing the name of the street I grew up on almost brought me to tears and I instantly regressed into my childhood. Trying to stay composed I looked up at him and with hesitation in my voice replied “yes”. The relief that showed on his face was instantaneous as he said “I can’t believe you’re alive. I have never forgotten about you”.

I almost burst into tears right there.
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“How I Killed Karen” excerpts

Posted on July 20, 2009 by chase

For the next two weeks I am determined to work on my forthcoming book, and only my book. To meet my September deadline I need to buckle down and stay focused. Now that I am not freaking out about my foot I can concentrate better.

Instead of separate posts I am going to publish very small excerpts of my book while I am working. Nothing is a final copy and my writings will still be undergoing edits, and then more edits. Feel free to comment, critique, ask questions, etc. I’ll plug in back stories if needed but I won’t be posting in any kind of order so please bear with me.

Thanks to everyone for your love and support! :)

peace, love, and good booze ~ chase

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