The Harbinger of Doom

Over the next few hours, I found out this:

Lars arranged a doctor's appointment for Pat and then decided to ask him about his progress with a homework assignment.

Lars decided Pat should be working on the assignment and wanted to make absolutely sure that he was.

Lars lied to Pat and told him that he had spoken with me and I granted him permission to pick him up immediately so he could spend the hours between then and the doctor's appointment working on the project at his house.

He told fiancee Liza to go to my house and retrieve Pat, and why not grab Hil while she was at it? The more the merrier!

Hil was convinced that the only reason Pat was going to Lars' house was to play XBox and she was not going to be a party to that. Took a stand and would not get in the car. Hence her little hissy fit.

I was fuming at the gall of it all. The liberties Lars would take. The assumption that he had the right to just show up and take the kids. The nerve of Liza to just pull up to the curb in front of my house and woo my kids to car like some weirdo with candy.

I was making dinner when Lars arrived at the house. He came to the door with a bunch of papers.

Knocks on the door like an ass.

I open the door and Pat walks in and goes immediately upstairs without breaking stride and without a word. Never a good sign.

Lars hands me a bunch of papers. Tells me in his asshole tone that he dropped off a prescription at the CVS but they couldn't promise it would be filled on the spot so I would have to go get it.

"How much is it?" I ask. I have something like 8 cents in my wallet and really don't need the aggravation.

He is oozing snideness. "I don't know. I guess they'll tell you. Howmysupposetaknow?"

I mimic his snideness. And know I look so much better with my hand-on-the-hip attitude. "Well, Lars, since the kids are on YOUR insurance, I would assume that YOUwould have at least a familiarity with the benefits and out-of-pocket expenses."

"Well, I don't remember. And the doctor says he can see a Dermatologist if we want so here is a list of names for you to call."

Really? A Dermatologist because our 13 year old has one pimple and a patch of dry skin? Spare me.

I hand back the note. "No, you can make that ridiculous appointment. Since you can't even bother to ever get his hair cut, I think you can extend yourself with this."

He hands back the papers. "No, I did this one, you can do that one." The snideness ratcheting up a notch. How familiar.

"No," I argue, escalating the pissiness one more notch. "I don't think it's necessary, so if you do, have at it. And by the way, since I pay you more child support because you cover the bennies for the kids, you need to cover the first $250 in out-of-pocket expenses for each of them. So you need to give me the money for the script now or pick it up yourself. Unless you have a bunch of reciepts in your wallet that proves you've already met the expense."

He is about to blow a proverbial gasket but turns to walk away. I wad up the list of names and throw it at the back of his big square head. "I am not getting the script, and I am not making this appointment. Period. Go get the meds yourself and drop them between the doors. No one needs to see you again tonight."

That momentarily gets his limited attention. He throws the wad of paper back at me (he was clearly not taught to throw by MY Dad.) and says he's not getting the script. I shut the door in his face and lock it. I summarily turn out the porch light and hope that he falls down the cement steps and breaks his neck.

True to form, the mad mad flies back up the steps to the door and bangs on it like a loon. Screaming at the top of his lungs that he needs to see Hilary and will not leave until he says goodbye to Hilary. Followed by 3 or 4 more sentences of unintelligible ramblings.

Hil's looking at me quizzically. I tell her she can say goodbye if she wants, but has no obligation. She says she'll shut him up and steps outside for an uncomfortable hug.

I am totally annoyed that the dinner I'd left in the skillet has begun to scorch.