I suppose I should start with a mild warning as this story, while funny, is also kind of gross. Welcome to my life.

Allow me to start with a little back story. My father’s wife appears to have done all of her research on how to be a Step-Mother in certain children’s books. I don’t mean she could be a little grumpy; I mean she got cease and desist letters from The Mouse.

On the Sunday evening in question, I had just gotten home and was trying my d***edest to get out of my boots, an effort hampered by the fact that, despite being fifteen, I had worked thirty-six hours in the lambing sheds that weekend and was so tired I had walked home, right past the motorcycle I had ridden to work.

As soon as she heard the front door, she started in on me through the door that separated the kitchen from the front hall, screeching at me that I hadn’t done my chores and I had better get caught up right now or no supper for me.

I said, “I’ve been at work all weekend; you know that. You insisted I take the job.”

As soon as I said the words, I knew it was a mistake, and sure enough, she ripped the door open and took a deep breath to engage in her favourite pastime: berating me for being a waste of skin and air.

Sadly for her — but not me — she took the deep breath after she opened the door.

After thirty-six hours in the sheds, I was covered in… I’m not going to be specific, but suffice to say that if it was liquid and could be found inside a sheep, I was wearing it. (I ended up having to throw all of my clothes out because even a boil wash couldn’t get the smell out.)

Her eyes bugged out, she went green, and she dived past me to throw up in the downstairs bathroom. I finished undressing, threw my clothes and boots out the front door, and went upstairs to scrub myself down with Swarfega: proper manly, gritty cleanser.

You’d think that would be an end to it, right? Wrong.

As I fell asleep — passed out — it was to the sound of her howling at my father because he wouldn’t let her wake me up to vacuum the downstairs and do the dishes.

I turned on Hulu and it needed the password, so I typed it in. It said my password was incorrect, so I tried it again. It was still incorrect, so I asked my mom, who pays for the service and shares it between two houses, if the password was changed. She said no. She asked my stepdad, who is an expert at this stuff, why the password wouldn’t work. He scoffed and said, “I changed it. She can pay for her own.” 

I was stunned, because he’d never done anything like this before. My mom got angry and started yelling at him, saying he had no right and she’s the one who pays for the service, etcetera. 

My stepdad finally said he’d been looking for a reason to throw me out of the house, and he thought this would do it. He was the one who wound up getting thrown out of the house. Due to this and several other recent incidents, my mom is now filing for divorce.

I’m a 12-year-old boy. I’m sitting at the dinner table with my dad and my stepmom, who are having a conversation about some details of their relationship. When they successfully finish the conversation, I speak up.

Me: “I don’t understand women.”

Dad: “You’re twenty years ahead of the game, then.”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “Men cannot understand women. The best you can manage is to be loving and kind to them.”

Stepmom: “He’s right. Don’t bother trying to figure us women out. Just give us cuddles and listen when we speak.” 

Dad: “And if you’re ever tempted to argue with one, just remember that the woman is always right.”

I filed that advice away and have had great success in my romantic relationships by following it.

My dad remarried right before I started high school. Before long, my siblings and I came to the conclusion that he loved his new wife more than he did us. This incident cemented that belief for me.

I’d been arguing a lot with both my dad and my stepmother recently. Dad usually sided with my stepmother, but every once in a while he’d take my side. Then, one night, he came into my room to speak to me. Apparently, [Stepmother] didn’t like him not taking her side, so he’d decided that from now on, he was always going to outwardly take her side, even if he secretly agreed with me.

Feeling the love, Dad. Feeling the love.

Dog: *starts barking at the window*

Stepdad: “What’s he barking at?”

Other Dogs: *start going wild*

Stepdad: “Everyone, SHUT UP!”

Dogs: *goes silent*

Stepdad: “What were they barking at?”

Stepbrother: “[First Dog] saw a rabbit, and the other two just copied him.”

Stepdad: “Nutty dogs.”

Dog: *starts going nuts*

Stepbrother: “Now there’s a cat outside… The cat is stalking the rabbit. The rabbit took off, and now the cat’s looking disappointed.”

Stepdad: “Stupid cat should have caught him when she had the chance.”