My Life in Hell

Chapter 1

My life is over. And I blame my mom for it.

It all started when my dear mother won an all-paid trip to Vegas, two weeks ago. And because my bohemian mother does not do things like others, I should have known she would come back from Vegas with more than memories and postcards.

Until the moment she came back from her trip, my life was simple.  I lived upstate New York in a trailer, in my grandparent’s back yard and I was in a normal highschool. I was not popular, not by any means, but I had a group of friends that I liked enough. No boyfriend yet, probably because everybody knew that my mom was the crazy lady at the flea market that was doing cards reading. It might not have been an exciting life, but it was mine and I had it under control.

But now, thanks to my mom, I have to say goodbye to everything I know and move to New York City, to a new school, and make new friends.

But this is not the worst.  Let me tell you what my mom did.

My mom can’t drink. Not even a glass of wine because when she does, she does stupid things. Dancing on table, cry like a baby while watching a hockey game or offering a card reading to all the people of the street.

I don’t know what she was thinking or what really happened, but it seems that when she was in Vegas, she drank a glass of champagne and she (gulp), she got married.

I could have deal with her getting married again. I longed to see her happy, with a man that loves her as much as my dad loved her. But that is not what happened. It’s not enough that she got married. It’s who she got married with that is going to change my life completely.

The name of my new step-father is Richard Mustard, also known as …

Satan.

Yeah, as THE Satan, the bad guy that lives downstairs and likes dogs with two heads.

And because mom can’t do things the way normal people do, she accidentally killed him during their wedding night, by accident. She didn’t know it, but Satan is, was, very allergic to peanuts and she was eating some in bed. I don’t quite know how it happened, not that I care to know. After all, she IS my mom, and some things should stay a mystery. The only thing I know is that when he died, he was wearing Pac-Man boxers.

I don’t want to move, I don’t want  but we have been “invited” to move by a very ugly and mean looking little man named Mr. Belzie, our new lawyer and Satan’s will executioner.

Next Monday, I am to start school in New York City. At the High School Hell Academy.

I am 16 years old and my name is Violet Smith, now Mustard, and this is my story.