*The squats are paying off, I’m looking like a snack* thought Rebecca, as she grabbed the rear waistband area of her Alexo Athletica pants; lifting it upwards a couple inches, then letting go. “THIIIIIIIIIIICC” she said out loud, bursting into laughter while checking herself out in the full length bedroom mirror. She looked really good for 37, and wanted everyone to know it. Rebecca’s husband Mark was going to be home from work in an hour, and she still needed to take their young son Justin, to the park to play. “Mommy will be there in a second sweetie!” she yelled out while entering the code to the small gun safe in top of the bedroom closet. “Ugh Mark can never put shit back properly” she whispered under her breath through clenched teeth. Annoyed, taking his Hi-Point C9 out and setting it next to the safe by his tie rack, so she could properly get at her Glock 43. *Mark you’re an accountant with an MBA for God sake… have some dignity* she thought, and instantly felt bad as she closed the safe. The G43 slid smoothy into the Alexo waistband pocket, to the right of the pocket she permanently designated as snack storage.

As Justin played on the swings Rebecca’s eyes wandered across the park, noticing the usual cliques of young moms trying to “one-up” one another. Whether it be SUVs, handbags, or $2000 strollers… this place was for checking your social rank as much as it was for letting your kids burn off some energy. Being a good 5 years older than these women, Rebecca was glad to have nothing to prove to anyone. She knew this annoyed them, judging by the eyes she could always feel on her and the few comments in the past, that she was not supposed to (but supposed to) hear. “I’ll give you three more pushes then we gotta get home to see Dad” said Rebecca as they finished up.

Rebecca began making dinner while little Justin played with his LEGOs. They were having Greek salad, and chicken souvlaki tonight; Mark’s favorite. “Babe? I’m home!” Mark’s voice echoed through the foyer and into the kitchen. ” I’ll come say hi and help you in a second, I’m just going to change clothes.” he said as he briskly bounded up the stairs to the bedroom. Opening the bedroom closet to put his suit and tie away, he noticed the C9 out of the safe sitting next to his tie rack. *Hello old friend* Mark thought, interestingly enough feeling guilty for neglecting it for over a decade since graduating from school and buying several HKs and Glocks. As Mark touched the slide of the handgun, it was like a lightening bolt hit him. He blurted out at full volume “MY DIAMONDS CERTIFIED / MY TRIGGER WORKING / GOT IT OUT THE MUD BABY / THAT’S WHY MY CUP DIRTY”. Instantly recoiling in amazement and an excited terror, Mark’s heart rate and breath quickened. “Mark? What?” he heard faintly from downstairs. “Uh, nothing hunnie, I’ll be down in a minute”. Mark stared at the Hi-Point and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He reached out and grabbed the entire gun by the grip “I’M A MONSTER, EXORCISMS / TOTE TOOLS LIKE MECHANICS, MECHANISMS”. Rebecca had no idea what was going on, but at this point the vegetables Mark was supposed to help cut up were finished, and the chicken was almost ready. She took of her glasses, sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose with the thumb and index finger of her right hand. “I’m going to go check on daddy” Rebecca said to little Justin, before taking a generous sip of her Chardonnay and headed towards the stairs. She wasn’t ready for what she saw as she rounded the corner into the bedroom. Mark wearing only his boxers, C9 in hand and in a daze yelling stuff at himself in the mirror “YOU WALKING WITH YOUR HEAD DOWN, SCARED TO LOOK / YOU SHOOK / CAUSE AIN’T NO SUCH THINGS AS HALFWAY CROOKS / THEY NEVER AROUND WITH THE BEEF COOKS IN MY PART OF TOWN….”. Rebecca gasped, yelling out “MARK NO!”. Stopping mid sentence Mark looked over at her with a vacant expression. “I’VE BEEN OUT HERE GETTING BREAD. I DON’T NEED YOU ALL IN MY LOAF” he continued while fist pumping the gun at himself in the mirror. “Mark stop, this isn’t funny” pleaded Rebecca as she walked towards him. She could hear Justin crying downstairs, likely scared by what was going on. She knew what she had to do. Mark continued rapping into the mirror while Rebecca maneuvered stealthy behind him. “Mark, put the gun down or I’m going to call the police” she pleaded with him. This caught his attention. Knocking the proverbial wind out of his sails he spun around to face Rebecca, gun limp in hand at his side – “I’LL NEVER TALK TO THE COPS. I DON’T SPEAK PIG LATIN.” he obnoxiously yelled at her while standing there like a robot. She saw the opportunity so she went for it, smacking the gun out of his hand. The C9 hit the hardwood floor with a loud thud, as did Mark’s now limp exhausted body. Half in a stupor he saw Rebecca kneeling sideways propped up on one hand in front of him “Wha… what happened?”. “You just fainted. You need to drink more water during the day babe.” said Rebecca in a concerned voice as tears welled up in her eyes. She kissed him then cleared her throat loudly to cover for the sound, as she used one foot to kick the Hi-Point deep underneath the king size bed.

Thoughts?  I don’t know how many of you guys follow me on Instagram, but I think this is like the 8 or 9th fan fiction I’ve done now if you care to read more like this.  Most of the previous ones were heavily sheepdog related, so I thought I’d switch it up a bit.  I do plan on compiling them in one place someday.

P.S.: Here are the songs I referenced:

Future – For Da Gang
Lil Wayne – President Carter
Mobb Deep – Survival Of The Fittest
Lil Wayne – UOENO
Lil Wanye & 2Chainz – Rich as Fuck