Spoiled Rotten ..

Whenever he mentions Paris, I think of where I came from. The nights my stomach growled so loud the city stopped to say, "Damn... What the hell was that...?" The days I sat at the lunch table with all the other kids, and had to lie and say, "I forgot my lunch at home again" just because it sounded a lot better than, "My parents can't afford to feed me three times a day... I'm lucky if I even eat once." Paris, huh? Isn't that funny ...
Slimey, three week old baked chicken and flat soda... Sounds gross, but compared to spoiled milk in stale Cheerios , that was my favorite meal. I never had the option of freshly cooked meals of my choosing. In my eyes, only royalty did... And me? Well in the story of the Prince and The Paulper, I was the Paulper. I grew up in a very low class house. Birthdays were just regular days, and Christmas didn't exist. I've never even had an actual Christmas tree. Well except for that one year my mom dated that "child doctor" which was just his excuse for raping little kids. Yup, you read right, about a year into them dating, the cops showed up at my door step, kicked in our already weak door, and left with him in cuffs. Isn't it ironic how he gave me a childhood that one year with the money he got for taking the childhood of others completely..? Crazy shit to think about right? Well after that, things just went completely downhill for me and my mom. Not only were we broke as hell, but my mom bounced from one bad guy to the next. There was Michael the musician, who was a druggy/ drunk. Then there was Bill the boxer, who beat the shit out of my mom on a daily. Next was Steven the scammer, who took us for everything we had (which wasn't much from the jump) and finally, my personal favorite: "Too Friendly" Tom, who couldn't keep his damn hands to himself. It was a daily ritual for him to come into my room in the wee hours of the night... His night wasn't complete without it. Oh and the nights that he was too drunk or high, or both to handle his "business", he blamed me and I got it twice as bad the next night. Yup, so him being a drug addict was totally my fault.
Rotten eggs scrambled, put on molded bread, accompanied by "blue cheese" which wasn't exacty blue cheese when we first got it... This was breakfast, if I was lucky that is. Now a days, I have five course breakfasts and in bed if that's how I want it! So much has changed since I've met the love of my life. Nobody thought it would last. Especially not my witch of a mother. I guess she was just being a hater being though she never really had a real relationship with a man. You know, the type of relationship where she didn't get beat and disrespected on a daily and he actually loved her. Yup, a hater. That is the word that describes my mom.
Anyways, back to something that actually matters... Paris. Whenever he mentions Paris, I still get chill bumps. The lights, the language, the city of love. Exactly where him and I belong. He has a beautiful townhouse right by the Eiffel Tower. It's practically close enough to touch. That's where we spend our night out there. Dinner on the second story of the Eiffel Tower then a night on the town... Hmm... Paris... (: