Valentine's Day Massacre

Because it had been called a "high school" dance the event was expected to be held at the school where drug dealers then roamed the corridors and students smoked odorless dope without detection. Senior Billy Abbott was so worried his freshman baby cousin would hookup with college student J.T. Hellstrom at the dance he went out of his way to warn J.T. to keep away from Colleen Carlton.

As time wore on however, it was learned the 2003 Walnut Grove Academy Valentine's Day dance wasn't being held at the school at all and that none of the WGA students had been invited to what would be a mostly private affair for the Jabot Cosmetics Glowtique crowd and their assorted freaky friends. The one and only poster promoting the dance appeared on the wall of Colleen's bedroom showing the dance would be held at the Newman Jitter Joint yet JJ proprietors had no knowledge of it until the Glow Worms showed up to decorate the place.

Making matters worse old man John 'Yawn' Abbott announced he would be chaperoning the zit-infested kids purely as a means to remind Colleen that the two-week restraining order he'd issued four weeks previous was still in effect. Colleen said to hell with it. She was going to the dance whether the old fart liked it or not. If she had to she'd slip out the bedroom window like she'd been doing all along.

Yawn objected then gave in so long as she didn't go with or see J.T. and Colleen saw this as Yawn's way of getting back at her for being a whining little snot as she'd made a sneering remark about frail old men getting their kicks by mingling with 14-year-old girls.

Absurd as it was the story didn't end there.

On the night of the dance in a park conveniently located near the coffee shop J.T. was waiting for the perfect opportunity to crash the dance. He planned to literally drop through the ceiling onto a stage where he'd sing a love song for Colleen. J.T.'s timing was impeccable as at the last moment Yawn, the founder of a major corporation, was paged to his office to handle a major catastrophe. Sounding like a castrated Randy Travis on helium, J.T. crooned his tune. It was the perfect ending to what Colleen had thought would be her worst V-Day ever.

The very next day the Walnut Grove Academy newspaper ran a spread on the dance featuring first year student Colleen including a photo of her kissing J.T. thus turning a day for meant for lovers into the Valentine's Day Massacre.

God's Mysterious Ways

Unlike some adults in Genoa City who are in such a rush to get married they run off to elope and get wasted on cheap tequila and grope mindlessly and screw like rabid ferrets for about three minutes before passing out in their trashed hotel suites, rich, well-connected teenagers Billy Abbott and Mac Browning elected to have a quiet, simple wedding.

It seems like eons ago, but it was just last year that with the completion of their first year of college, Abbott and Browning were planning a wedding. The bride opted for tulips from a local market to highlight the ceremony and although she was having a hard time drumming up people to attend had invitations prepared by a stationer. Mac planned to wear a plain white dress at the ceremony and asked known shoplifter Brittany Hodges to be her matron of dishonor choosing her over the more "romantic" niece of the groom, Colleen Carlton.

That Hodges and Browning once hated didn't matter because they had come to grow on each other like "family" and traditionally the family of the bride is always gathered together on such special occasions.

Based on the perception that marriages in Genoa City never last and are generally considered a joke, Hodges refused the request. She did however, suggest Browning hit up her fairy godmother for a deal on a wedding gown inasmuch as Lauren Fenmore owns and operates Fenmore's Department Store and Glowtique.

Playing the modest little virgin to the hilt, Browning said she didn't want to impose on Fenmore but would reconsider once the actual ceremony became the focus of her planning.

Unlike the bride to be, Billy Abbott wanted a lavish wedding. The best money could buy. That's why he went straight to Katherine Sterling to ask Browning's grandmother if she'd be so kind as to loan him $5,000 he said he might pay back should he ever get a job paying more than minimum wage.

Rejected for putting his education on hold while he played house, Abbott's parents refused to support the wedding in any way. And unwilling to part with so much as a dime of her fortune as part of a loan, Sterling said she'd be more than happy to fund the wedding. Weird as it was, the young boob said he'd have to ask Browning's permission before accepting.

As if this one example of stupidity weren't enough, Sterling noted that from what she'd seen the bride wasn't wearing an engagement ring. Abbott explained not having money to buy so much as a Crackerjack ring, but that if he had it would have been good enough for peasants like Mac and himself.

Sterling wouldn't hear of it. No heavily plasticized, awkwardly mobile creature would stroll the streets on her watch wearing cheap wedding bands. Just that morning she had been up early pawing through her treasures and dug out just the thing for her granddaughter to wear. A family heirloom from the heretofore unknown Gary Reynolds! Yes, the same Reynolds responsible for siring her sit-around the mansion in tight jeans son, Brock Reynolds!

None of this explains why Mac still goes by the name Browning when she was spawned by Reynolds. It did have something to do with her throw away mother, Amanda Browning Hunnicutt whom Mac had ordered deported and who wasn't invited to the wedding.

The heirloom - a diamond ring - dazzled Abbott. He'd have to stand before a fifteen-foot mirror installed next to a life-sized blowup doll of a weeping Browning in his dungeon bedroom to ponder just the right moment to give it to his soon to be wife but give it to her he would.

So much for budget weddings and pretexts of living life like peasants. The spoiled brats, who had never so much as dirtied their hands doing an honest days work to get anything, were spending money like it was going out of style. Mac immediately booked the expensive ColonRoom Restaurant for the reception, but the one thing she didn't want was an expensive church wedding. No, they wanted their wedding to be held in some place where souls have recoiled, where hate has festered and where two children about to be married for the first time could wail their undying love for one another.

That place was the Chancellor mausoleum. That glorious wasteland filled with bad memories for Mac when her mother had stayed there briefly and brought Ralph Hunnicutt back to haunt her again, yet the place where the sad looking, lonely girl who kicked her mother out of town wanted to marry a boy who suspiciously looked at other boys and someone she'd never had sex with. This was the place where Billy Abbott and Mac Browning would lick the Bible in some pro-family nightmarish fashion.

The odd thing about this - if not the participants - was that two kids joining in wedlock for the first time would want the ceremony anywhere but a church. Yes, they may have learned from the adults in this city that getting married in a church doesn't necessarily mean the marriage will last longer, but how could two supposedly innocent kids not know the overall added blessing of being married before God?

Could it have been that they had no idea what orgasm or pleasure or even happiness meant? It wasn't as if Mac and Billy were the hyper-Christian anti-choice anti-porn types representing traditional family values. And it wasn't as if they couldn't go to a church because of the bride's ailing granny. If Katherine Sterling could sit in a wheelchair for hours on end in her dining room she sure as hell could be rolled into a church for an hour.

As almost everyone knew at the time Billy and Mac would never have sex mostly because Billy was not one to even remotely appreciate or even care about much less understand anything at all regarding the messy glorious divinity of women or women's pleasure and the true sticky all-American pastime. He was quite possibly the least sexually appealing or attuned teenager since, well, his father and thought to be anatomically incorrect which explained why Raul Guittierez would drool whenever he saw Billy with his shirt off.

Getting hooked up with quite possibly the least sexually tempting, most bitter girl in the history of Genoa City didn't help Billy either. Mac's lack of sex, repression of libido, ignorance of sexuality or sex education and lack of sexual celebration was widely known.

Together, Mac and Billy represented the hollow sexless teens scampering around Genoa City like sewer rats in search of a good meal and would later thank themselves for not participating in the ickiest most disease-riddled guilt-packed and victimizing act they could ever do with another person.

As it turned out God proved again that He works in mysterious ways. Especially when the persons in this case were cousins.

A year later, Mac is back at it again. Threatening to terrorize Jill Abbott and showing granny Katherine respect by snubbing her on Mother's Day. With Brittany about to cut Raul loose Mac will be free to learn from him what Billy couldn't teach her.

Where's the Yogurt?

Originally published March 19, 2003

Doctors at the God Have Mercy Medical Center held out little hope that near-drowning victim Cassie Newman would ever recover from the comatose state the patient has been in for days. The best Dr. Reese Walker could offer was the sign that young Newman was having "brain activity where none should be."

Members of the Newman family have been in agony. What is to become of them if something happens to that "precious" girl? Would they be able to move on with their lives if Cassie was to die? Would they pretty much forget Cassie was ever alive after the weepy-eyed memorial service?

As the hand-wringing continued somebody remembered that Cassie's half-brother had been out at the Newman ranch all alone since the day of the accident, located the small Noah Newman, and rushed him to the hospital.

"Is she dead?" Noah asked daddy Nick.

"No! It's like she is sleeping with her eyes open," Nick said, unable to answer Noah's brilliant follow-up question, "Can she see me?"

And by way of inducing some sort of awfully resigned sadness deep into the collective psyche, Nick said, "I’m not sure, but I know she'd want to jump up and hug you if she could."

To prove that indeed he is his father's son Noah asked again, "Is she going to die?"

It was just this sort of bizarre seemingly insignificant incident which clearly indicated the very core of the Newman's mental woes. Cassie would not die if Nick had anything to say about it.

"I'm going to see that she doesn't," he hurled, and in the same breath made the incredible statement, "She's hanging in there for all of us because we love her so."

Anyone with half a brain could see it. If they looked very deeply into Cassie's eyes they would have seen her talking with Satan.

"I'm not an evil person Mr. Devil so you'll just have to let me go back to my loving family. Can't you see them out there? There's my half-brother asking the same question over and over. And there's my step-daddy talking to Noah like he's some character in a fairytale and dripping with hate for my granddaddy. Aren't they just the most loving family you ever did see?" Cassie did not say but may just as well have for all the sense any of this made.

Fearing Noah would catch onto the deception, Nikki Newman took her grandson off for some yogurt at the hospital cafeteria and stuck a few crayons - called "colors" so as not to confuse the child - in his hand instructing him to draw a picture for his sister.

Alone at last with sister Victoria, Nick turned on his hate machine. His father was out there in the waiting room and by the gods Victor Newman would not come anywhere near Cassie. Not after what happened. It was daddy's fault that Cassie's mother had fled the city and wasn't there to bring Cassie back to life. It was Victor who had stuck his tongue down Sharon Newman's throat.

That Nick lives rent-free on his father's sprawling ranch, was given an executive position at Newman Enterprises for which he isn't qualified and the plush lifestyle that goes with it, didn't matter. Victor is rat bastard!

As Nick wallowed in self-pity his mother-in-law decided to get her wheelchair in gear and summon the Newman slave for a ride to the hospital to check in on her granddaughter. Rolling into the waiting room BoreUs Collins overheard the elder Newmans discussing the possibility of taking Cassie out of the hospital.

No surprise, the hilarious and absurd plan was conjured up by Nick. Cassie would be taken home and watched over by a full-time nurse. In addition, members of the family would have to be taught how to care for the patient which would mean some instant on-the-job training.

The word sparked sentiment deep in Miguel Rodriguez's heart. Nurse, yum yum. Wouldn't it be just the sweetest thing if he could be one? Bowing before his master, Miguel said he'd like to take the nurses training too. Could he? Pretty please? Granted permission, Miguel suddenly remembered he had errands to run. There was a sale at Fenmore's on nylon hosiery and pushup bras.

And as if she too would be able to do anything to care for Cassie, BoreUs demanded a pow-wow with Nikki before they proceeded and then launched into a tirade about old rich men who think they can take advantage of young and dumb women like her daughter and she could prove Victor stuck his tongue down Sharon's mouth first because she was hiding in the closet watching it all.

Nikki was outraged. You bitch, she may have thought, before asking why BoreUs would state something as fact that clearly she didn't know. Was this one of those cases of if you repeat a lie enough times it becomes truth? No. It was just the blathering of Sharon who had called BoreUs to tell her side of the story.

Too busy arguing, nobody noticed when Noah re-entered Cassie's room and began spooning yogurt down her gullet thus accelerating Cassie's untimely gag reflect and presto change-o she was actually eating and craving some deep fried cheese poppers drenched in blue cheese dressing.

"Isn't this good? Here, have some more," a giddy Noah urged, totally unaware he had discovered that from yogurt springs eternal life.

The Frito Banditos Revisited

January 27, 2003

What happened Monday at the Newman ranch just goes to show what happens when avenging stable boys, ex-cons, and rich jerks form a coalition to nab brainless Frito banditos when collectively they lack the brainpower to change a flat tire.

To avoid its insipidness the scene could have emulated the Vincent Price movie, House of Wax, where at the end professor Henry Jarrod falls into a vat of bubbling green Dow Chemical sludge and dies, but there would be none of that or much of anything resembling believability. Factor in the knowledge that neither Larry 'Wartman' Warton nor Diego Guittierez had ever been inside the Newman home long enough to know about the existence of a safe and the whole charade becomes a falling down laughing joke.

After ordering his slave to locate and warn members of the precious Newman family to stay away from the ranch until further notice, and of course not telling them why, the great Victor Newman checked with crime fighters Diego and Larry to be sure the trap was set. It was a plan only a pack of weirdly mutated hairless dwarfs could have thought up.

Trigger-happy Diego would let the banditos in by the back gate as the Wartman pretended to be drilling open the safe located by the bar inside the main house. As the banditos were arriving Diego would call the cops allowing the fuzz plenty of time to make the one-hour drive and subsequent arrest.

Over Diego's objection, Victor said there would be no guns even though it was known the banditos were packing heat.

"You don’t understand. These guys left me for dead. I want my shot at them," Diego sniveled only to be called "son" by Victor and reminded that things at the Newman ranch are done the Newman way.

Remarkably, a call came in on Warton's cell phone. The banditos were just turning off the main road and would arrive within moments. Presumably, the slave was hiding in the bushes near the main highway and made the call. Suddenly, the plan changed slightly. Victor ordered Diego to let the bandits in while Larry waited by the house and Victor blended into the shadows.

When the banditos showed up everyone went inside the house. With pistol drawn, one bandito watched as Larry began drilling the safe and out of the corner of his eye spotted Diego reaching for the proverbial fireplace poker. Apparently having heard about Ralph Hunnicutt's encounter with Billy Abbott and the infamous Chancellor Estate poker fiasco, the bandito ordered Diego to watch the window and then said nothing as Diego walked outside.

Noticing the time, the banditos gave Larry five minutes to open the safe and only then noticed Diego was no longer in the room. Peeking outside and unable to see Diego, the bad guys began getting strange vibes. Larry tried the old distraction ploy by flashing hot Newman cash at them. Gazing at the loot, the banditos nearly jumped out of their skin when Victor materialized.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Victor Newman. This is my house. That is my money," he mumbled.

The banditos were flabbergasted. Their caper had gone bust. The man of steel stood before them. They knew from watching too much of the TV Land Channel that bullets bounce off Superman but waved the gun at Victor anyway ordering him to freeze.

Cool, collective, afraid of nothing big man about town he is, Victor ignored the order and began sweet-talking the dudes into not adding a murder charge to their list of crimes. Besides, the place was surrounded.

To prove all those Kung-Fu lessons and workouts with Tricia Dennison watching had paid off, Victor kicked the gun out of the armed man's hand following through with a punch to the jaw. Waiting for the order to do something besides play pocket pool, Diego smacked away at a bandito as Victor and Larry stood by. Engrossed in the smack down, Victor didn't notice the other bandito coming at him with a bottle until it had shattered on his head.

As an unconscious Victor slumped to the floor, the Wartman pummeled the bottle bearer into the middle of next week until there was a knock at the door. The police were outside politely announcing their arrival.

Sadly, observers were left wondering, but not much caring, would Victor Newman, a man who has been shot and harpooned and lived to tell about it, die from a mere bottle upside the head? Was there any chance Diego might still reach for a gun and be shot dead by police so that his incessant vendetta to get even and get back Victor's money - money Victor didn't want back and which no longer existed?

It was all in a day's work for the man of steel. Moments later, with just a bandage around his thick head to show for the trouble, Victor appeared none the worse for wear. Wisely refusing transport to the Center 4 Disease for medical treatment a dazed Victor took his place in the Hall of Idiocy alongside his daughter, Ryan McNeil, Ralph Hunnicutt and others who have been knocked unconscious only to refuse treatment later. As the bandits were led off to jail, high-fives were given all around as Victor thanked ex-con Larry and Diego for a job well done and then thanked God his electro-prostate stimulator still worked.

All for the Love of a Girl

At a time when much is being made of Malcolm Winters interfering in the lives of his estranged family it helps to go back to a time when his brother gave Dru Winters permission to have sex with other men.

"They are my bitches" the noted soul-shriveled beady-eyed Dru with skin like a petrified sea cucumber might have said that February 7, 2003, day.

Her eyes rolled up into their sockets in a sexual haze and just as an expected orgasm with cue ball Dr. Wes Carter was about to burst forth and cause a sticky mess all over the sofa, Neil walked in.

"This is my apartment!" Neil bellowed, interrupting the two practically chained together like mangy sex-starved dogs, and kicked himself for thinking that when he begged his former wife to move into the 2-bedroom crash pad with their daughter he'd turn the place into his very own sex dungeon but with him as the master.

"How can you be doing this?" Neil asked Dru, noticing too that Carter was in a state of heightened awareness. What would his daughter have thought had she walked in and caught the two writhing snakes?

Angry that Neil had walked in right when she was on the edge of orgasm, Dru scolded Neil for "spoiling our moment" and hissed that she and Wes had got "carried away."

"You knew Dru and I have something special," Wes chimed in as if to say, listen fool, next time knock so I won't have to punch myself in the crotch to make this erection go down. The cue ball also noted that just because Dru moved in with Neil didn't mean she'd stop having sex with other men.

And not in his wildest dream did Neil think to ask Wes, gosh, didn't you go back to Paris? Why are you back? How can your afford those plane tickets and that $400+ per day Genoa City Hotel room when you don't have a job? Why can't you have sex with my woman somewhere else?

Just the freakiest barometer of the human condition what bothered Neil the most wasn't why the sex fiends were using his sofa as a love nest, but what that twisted position they'd got themselves into was.

"What were you trying to do?" Neil asked.

Realizing he was truly in the company of a missionary style only man Wes grabbed Dru and was about to split the scene when Neil ordered her to stay where she belonged.

Like two weasels fighting over a dead mouse, their massive titanic egos totally out of control, Wes and Neil got into a mini-shoving match the likes of which are always broken up by the tasteless women involved. Pushing Wes out the door, Dru's eyes flashed as Neil wondered again what he had stumbled onto.

Dru told the disillusioned sap that what he witnessed should have come as no surprise considering he knew the ground rules when she moved in. She was free to have sex with other men when she wanted, where she wanted.

Like the disgusting excuse for a man he is Neil tucked his tail between his legs. In doing so he felt nothing that might signify manhood. It was all good. If Dru wanted to bring home men and have sex on his sofa or in his bed or wherever, it was okay by him. He'd put up with it for the sake of his daughter.

CASSIE NEWMAN UNDER WATER - February 20, 2003

It is a well documented fact that the Newman ranch is a one hour drive each way to and from Genoa City. After concluding business with his son on Thursday, Victor Newman made the trip back to his office where he dispatched a chauffeur to fetch his daughter-in-law's mother, BoreUs Collins.

Newman informed Mrs. Collins that her daughter had left town suddenly and after the two had shared their broken hearts Collins asked, "Are you sure?" Could Sharon Newman perhaps be sitting on the toilet at her gynecologist's office or something simple like that so the family wouldn't have to go through another day of agonizing over Sharon?

Newman was adamant. Sharon was gone. Take his word for it. "We don’t know where she is or when she’ll be back," Victor sighed as BoreUs, fearful she might have to break out of her sad and duct-taped little life and actually serve some purpose, burped, "This doesn’t sound like my daughter."

But of course it sounded very much like something Sharon would do and BoreUs knew damn well. BoreUs' real fear - that she'd have to baby-sit one or both of Sharon's spawns at her tiny apartment - was relieved when Victor said the kids would be "well taken care of" which always means the Newman slave will be stuck doing the dirty work until or if Sharon returns.

Asked again where Sharon might be, BoreUs stated, "We do have friends in Madison" but added she hadn't seen the friends for like, well, years because there really are no friends in Madison except maybe Frank Barrett whose sperm helped spawn Cassie Newman but who has never expressed an interest in his daughter.

After promising to call around to see what she could find out, BoreUs left with Victor's assurance that everything in his power would be done to bring Sharon back.

While all this was taking place Victor's son Nick was puttering around inside the main Newman ranch house when his sister arrived. Victoria Newman inquired as to Nick's earlier conversation with their father and after listening to Nick's tale of woe explained that she and the former Newman ranch stable boy had parted ways.

"He hitchhiked off into the sunset," Victoria said, which was odd because Diego Guittierez owns a vehicle and possessed a valid drivers license.

Suddenly, Nick recalled that his adopted daughter was waiting to speak to him about why his wife had abandoned her children.

"Where's Cassie?" Nick wondered, as the clock ticked away.

Time elapsed: An estimated and very conservative eighty minutes.

Waiting nearby to be assigned a task, the Newman slave went upstairs to check and returned to say Cassie wasn't there. Instructing everyone to look around, Nick went down to the outhouse to look but found nothing. The threesome rejoined later empty-handed to wonder. Could Cassie be at the stable? A call to the stable failed to turn Cassie up except that one of the ranch hands had said the girl was seen walking toward the north pasture.

Time elapsed: An estimated and very conservative ninety five minutes

Running outside Nick jumped on a red all terrain vehicle speeding off to the pasture where he called out to the missing Cassie. Victoria Newman pulled up moments later also driving a red ATV.

Time elapsed: An estimated and very conservative one hundred five minutes.

The Newmans walked around calling Cassie's name until Victoria stepped on a mitten. Could it be Cassie's?

"You bet it is," Nick honked before noticing a hole in the ice.

Ripping his jacket off, Nick, as dumb as ever, dove into the ice covered pond fully expecting to locate the precious Cassie, who, although in a normal place and time would have died from hypothermia, was expected to live, albeit in a coma for a few days.

No Holiday for Slaves

by Brent Kellogg
Originally published July 4, 2003

And now here we are again, at a shimmering historic moment where we cannot help but note the delicious irony, the divine karmic genius of it all. The 4th of July and the slaves in Genoa City are forced to be at the beck and call of their masters while the slave owners enjoy the holiday by spewing hatred at their enemies. Ain't life in Genoa City grand?

Miguel Rodriguez, always the faithful servant, was performing his duties at the Newman ranch hauling trays loaded with red meat to be burnt to a crisp on the grill and baby-sitting the smart-mouthed Newman brat, Cassie. Although the little snot was simmering with hatred toward her mother and dying to get away from the ranch for just a day, Cassie did not go into town with her half-brother and grandpa to watch the parade.

For Rodriguez it was just another day watching from afar as the likes of Nikki Newman slapped the tragically shameless Sharon Newman right across her butt with a leather whip for stunning a good Christian-like Nikki into disbelief and abject terror by wearing "The World's Smallest Bikini."

Sharon's mother, BoreUs Collins couldn't attend the gala but it was said she might roll her ass out to the ranch after attending the church picnic if the slave could be spared long enough to make the one-hour drive each way into town to fetch her.

And no pool party at the ranch would be complete without someone totally unexpected dropping by. Fortunately this year the Newman's didn't have to haul total strangers in off the street. They had Jitter Joint manager Cody Dixon, hot for just one-minute with Victoria Newman between his legs, stop by to ask about the troubled Newman marriage and to say how he so hopes Nick and Sharon Newman can forget that she shoved her tongue down grandpa Newman's throat.

Perhaps most shocking of all this day was that Chancellor mausoleum slave Ether Valentine - apparently as a way to get back at her employer for having to spend the holiday sitting with an invalid - dressed stroke victim Katherine Sterling up in some godforsaken outfit donated by Lauren Fenmore and then tied a balloon shaped in the form of a star with an American flag emblazoned on it to the poor woman's wheelchair!

While no vehicles were seen in the parking lot undoubtedly these too would have flags stuck to the antennas and roof racks and nice little flag decals stuck all over the windows. For once in recent memory Jill Abbott had the good sense to tell Valentine to stop treating Mrs. Sterling like some patriotic circus act similar to Larry 'Wartman' Warton who showed up dressed as Uncle Sam.

At the RoadKill Cafe, Phyllis Abbott hurled hate balls at Dru Winters and vice-versa while Victor Newman introduced a terrorist-looking dude, his wife and kid, to Jack Abbott noting that the man - dressed in traditional Muslim garb - would be teaching this Summer at Genoa City University, a school nobody in this town attends anymore and especially during Summer and certainly not classes where Middle Eastern countries are part of the syllabus.

The professor from war-torn poor Jordan hinted it was a good thing he's in Wisconsin and not Texas where Muslin looking people are kidnapped and tortured just for looking foreign and don't have shotguns in the rear windows of their pickup trucks. Still, the professor said his family intends to stay alert.

Like so many other Fourth of July's before it, this one ended with RoadKill Cafe owner Gina Roma singing what Victor Newman said was his favorite tune. America the Beautiful!

Glasses shattered and windows cracked as Roma wailed and patrons gorging themselves on crispy fried rat carcass joined in. Crown thy good with brotherhood while you can suckers because tomorrow it's back to full-scale hatred of thy fellow man.

Cassie Newman
August 4, 2003

Kids Rule

Note: spelling of Frank Barritt's last name changes to Barrett.

Go ahead, ya smirkin' Genoa City brat, slouch around all scrunched and blank eyed and pseudo-adult, shove your mother into the hate-filled sewer near the back of your undeveloped brain and verbally attack her at every chance you get to blame her for ruining your life and embarrassing you.

Go ahead Cassie Newman, forget how your mother saved your sorry ass from a life of living alone in a dump with a drug-addicted mother and a scag of a grandmother who turned you over to the first strangers who came along. Forget that you once had only one friend, a rag doll named Cindy. Forget too that you had no hope of getting an education or ever wearing clothes that didn't come from the local thrift shop. Forget that your daily meals consisted of macaroni and cheese.

Ha. You are so cute Cassie. Sitting there with your step-father who at first didn't want you but went ahead and adopted you anyway after all the hard work and agony his wife went through to save you and spent thousands on your medical care recently when you fell through the ice like the dumbass ungrateful simpering little bitch-in-training you are.

And who's your damn daddy? Why has Frank Barrett never lifted a finger to find out where you are? Could he have known you'd turn out to be a twelve-year-old snot and that he'd have to quit repairing cars and pumping gas to become the first President of Torture Chamber All Damn Ungrateful Punk Kids Upside the Head Foundation?

Now here you are trying to act so adult, emulating the hatemongers. How dare mommy give granny Newman the stink eye? Doesn't everyone know mommy isn't to be trusted? Doesn't adopted daddy know that his wife can't be trusted because Cassie said so?

And too there was Nick Newman graciously nodding his empty head in approval as a child back-stabbed her mother right in front of his sunken eyes.

"Well, um, mommy is trying. You know Cassie dear, I would have never allowed her to come back into your life if I didn't think she could be trusted," the dinkwad said in so many words because this is just what these jackasses do. Hate, hate and more hate.

Because she's a desperately lonely freak of a kid, Cassie muttered more negative crap about maternal uptightness.

"She's made breakfast. She's been nice. She even said I could ask someone to the gala," Cassie said of her mother removing briefly the gold spoon hanging out the side of her foul hate-spewing mouth.

"She may have won my brother over with hugs and cookies but none of that matters to me," she hurled, as Nick lapped it all up and wondered why; hadn't sweet Cassie said she was going to give her mother another chance?

"I don't trust her. I can't forgive her. Don't ask me to love her because I can't. Not even for you," Cassie spat, as Nick maybe thought about going home and changing his panties and getting a nice enema too because this is what sissy daddy's boys without balls do when they've previously told snot-mouthed kids like Cassie not to diss their parents and then sits helplessly by as the snots do exactly the opposite.

Sadly, this is what it is all about in Genoa City, though of course it pretends to be about something else. This is when the culture is at its perky ass-slapping dumbed-down finest. Kids rule.