second, the little piece of the Morels I had inherited was worth something. Why? Because it was located high up and interested a lot of people who wanted to install cell phone signal relays or some sort of antenna.
Wow . . . thatâs what all those letters were that they sent to us for years that we never even read?
Wow . . . I was the sole heir of that pigsty and the mayor was offering to buy it from me?
Wow . . .
In the time it took for it to happen, I had my long-awaited eighteenth birthday, my stepmother and her little rug rats were moved to rent-controlled housing, I got my check for 11,452 euros, I listened to the spiel of the lawyer, who explained to me how much I should put aside for taxes, and I opened an account in my name.
Of course, at that time, my stepmother looked at me with puppy dog eyes and used emotional blackmail to get me to give her some of the money . . . At least half, otherwise I was really an ungrateful piece of shit given all that she had done for me, and how she had raised me like one of her own and all that even though I was the daughter of a slut.
I thought Iâd learned to take her insults about my shitty childhood, but even then, even in those circumstances, that word âslutâ really got to me . . . Why? Even when youâre a little rich, you donât have as much armor as people think . . . I listened to her spit out her venom and perhaps should have felt sorry for her, but my entire childhood, I heard her complain about my presence, going on and on about how I had ruined her life, and how she dreamed of having a massage chair, so I paid for her fucking massage chair, had it delivered to her new shack, and escaped once and for all.
Â
Everyone made puppy dog eyes at me at that time, everyone. My inheritance was common knowledge in the villages; rumor had it that I had gotten a fortune, like, millions and all that, and I let them say it.
Sure, now everyone said hello to me in the street, but I continued to work as before, and now that the age of glorious legal employment had finally arrived, I became a cashier at the Inter supermarket.
Â
At the time, I was living with a boy named Manu, who also became much nicer of course. In the end, he even succeeded in getting yours truly to pay for his car repairs and the hunting rifle of his dreams, and in getting yours truly to believe that she loved him. In short, things were going well. Itâs a wonder we didnât speak about getting married.
I thought about Camilleâs friends who cried in their convent because they didnât have a dowry and I thought about how everything on Earth was measured in cash.
Yes, I really wanted to pretend I was happy, but to go from there to asking myself to believe it, that was a big leap.
So I got 11,452 euros.
Okay, I took what came: I had work, a little dough on the side, a guy who didnât beat me, and electric radiators in the little house we had fixed up together; as far as happiness goes, I knew I couldnât do any better.
Â
So, everything basically fell into place, but you little star, you were feeling useless, so one Saturday evening in winter, the Manu in question came back from hunting and drinking (or rather from drinking, hunting, and drinking) half drunk, and he couldnât keep from laughing idiotically because he had something really good to tell me: âHey, the little queer . . . You know who I mean, the little queer from the village nearby . . . The one who never says hello and dresses like a fairy . . . Yeah, well, they nabbed him, you know . . . yeah, they nabbed him while he was walking alone in Les Charmettes and then they tried to provoke him a bit, that moron, and since he didnât say anything and acted all haughty, well, they took him with them, you know . . . Christ, in Mimicheâs van, you wanna know what they did to him there? They sprayed him with the urine
Wow . . . thatâs what all those letters were that they sent to us for years that we never even read?
Wow . . . I was the sole heir of that pigsty and the mayor was offering to buy it from me?
Wow . . .
In the time it took for it to happen, I had my long-awaited eighteenth birthday, my stepmother and her little rug rats were moved to rent-controlled housing, I got my check for 11,452 euros, I listened to the spiel of the lawyer, who explained to me how much I should put aside for taxes, and I opened an account in my name.
Of course, at that time, my stepmother looked at me with puppy dog eyes and used emotional blackmail to get me to give her some of the money . . . At least half, otherwise I was really an ungrateful piece of shit given all that she had done for me, and how she had raised me like one of her own and all that even though I was the daughter of a slut.
I thought Iâd learned to take her insults about my shitty childhood, but even then, even in those circumstances, that word âslutâ really got to me . . . Why? Even when youâre a little rich, you donât have as much armor as people think . . . I listened to her spit out her venom and perhaps should have felt sorry for her, but my entire childhood, I heard her complain about my presence, going on and on about how I had ruined her life, and how she dreamed of having a massage chair, so I paid for her fucking massage chair, had it delivered to her new shack, and escaped once and for all.
Â
Everyone made puppy dog eyes at me at that time, everyone. My inheritance was common knowledge in the villages; rumor had it that I had gotten a fortune, like, millions and all that, and I let them say it.
Sure, now everyone said hello to me in the street, but I continued to work as before, and now that the age of glorious legal employment had finally arrived, I became a cashier at the Inter supermarket.
Â
At the time, I was living with a boy named Manu, who also became much nicer of course. In the end, he even succeeded in getting yours truly to pay for his car repairs and the hunting rifle of his dreams, and in getting yours truly to believe that she loved him. In short, things were going well. Itâs a wonder we didnât speak about getting married.
I thought about Camilleâs friends who cried in their convent because they didnât have a dowry and I thought about how everything on Earth was measured in cash.
Yes, I really wanted to pretend I was happy, but to go from there to asking myself to believe it, that was a big leap.
So I got 11,452 euros.
Okay, I took what came: I had work, a little dough on the side, a guy who didnât beat me, and electric radiators in the little house we had fixed up together; as far as happiness goes, I knew I couldnât do any better.
Â
So, everything basically fell into place, but you little star, you were feeling useless, so one Saturday evening in winter, the Manu in question came back from hunting and drinking (or rather from drinking, hunting, and drinking) half drunk, and he couldnât keep from laughing idiotically because he had something really good to tell me: âHey, the little queer . . . You know who I mean, the little queer from the village nearby . . . The one who never says hello and dresses like a fairy . . . Yeah, well, they nabbed him, you know . . . yeah, they nabbed him while he was walking alone in Les Charmettes and then they tried to provoke him a bit, that moron, and since he didnât say anything and acted all haughty, well, they took him with them, you know . . . Christ, in Mimicheâs van, you wanna know what they did to him there? They sprayed him with the urine
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