Married To Mr. Serial Killer{#thewattys2018}(BWWM)(Story #1 Completed)

Lights, Camera, Extra Jericho

A/N: I keep telling myself I'm done with this story, but then I get inspired to write another part. I can't help it. I daydream a lot about scenarios that involve this character. Jericho give me life when I'm at work thinking 'bout him😏💭... Cause I'm weird like that😛.

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Warning, this part is unedited so it may have some typos.
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Jericho

Mona and I just returned home from the OB/GYN. I had to stay outside in the driveway a little longer, laughing my ass off in disbelief.

WE’RE HAVING TWIN BOYS!!!

The odds of that happening... Funny as hell.

Something smacks me in the back of my head.

“Get out!!!” I turn to see Mona throwing my clothes out in the driveway.

“Sweet thing, what are you doing?”

“Get your shit and go!!! I'm sick of you!!! Sick, sick, SICK!!!”

“You can't kick me out of my own house.” Did she forget just that quick, I have a key?

Damn, she was hell of mad.

She burst into tears, screaming, “Aaaaa-aaaahhhhhh!!!” She did not cry pretty. The girls stood in the doorway, watching their mom throw a temper tantrum, throwing my clothes out. “Go! Go with your daddy! I'm sick of y'all too!”

Yep... Mona put us all out- even Sam the Goldfish. I had the girls with me, standing on Mark's and Gianna's front porch with an overnight bag. “Mommy don't love us no more,” Jordan cries as I rang the doorbell.

Well, that stung. 

“Quiet. Your mother still loves us.”

I never saw her so upset. She's been putting up with me for four years now and I've done worst things. I thought she would be happy at the news of the two new editions to our family.

Mark answered the door with a... Ah, nah, bruh. What did she do to my best friend? “Duuude, bruh, homie, my man... is that a fanny-pack?”

“No...!” He gets all offended. “It's my Baby-Ready-Utility Pack.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing in his face. Their daughter, Audrina, was one month old now. It's funny how babies change you. I remember when Mark and I use to pick up chicks together. We use to take turns playingmy friend is the asshole, but I’m the nicer guy, let me hitgame on chicks. I can’t even count on my fingers how many times we scored. That was back in the day, though-like six years ago.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say man.” He gazes from me to the girls to our overnight bags. It was his turn to try not to laugh.

“Your wife put you AND the kids out... The d game must not have been that good.”

He laughed at his own joke. I seethe. I bet he was waiting to say that. Well, I guess I should let him have that jibe since I made fun of his fanny pack, but my comeback was, “You need to lay off the Purple Kush, Santos, it’s frying your sense of humor.”

He darted a look over his shoulder. “Keep it down, man... if my wife finds out I’m using again...,” he whispered. That was kind of the point. I wanted to see him receive a beat down from Gianna.

“Mm-hm, yeah, I'm looking at 'em right now,” Gianna comes sauntering up, shaking her head, balancing the phone and baby Audrina. “…Don't worry, girl. I'll take care of the three “situations” on my doorstep… Love you too. You get plenty of rest.” She hung up. “Come on in, y'all,” she says.