One “Heel” of a Problem

I have recently decided to stop sitting in the same room as the warden. Not because she has leaned to bottle the evil that courses through her veins so I can take it where ever I go, but because she touches me with her cranky filthy feet. I don’t have a problem with feet, just the warden. She has the ability to piss me off more than a bitch wearing cork wedges. She can get under my skin and likes to play games, and then when I get mad she turns it on me and makes it my fault. My mother is a bitch. Also I call my mother the warden. So she thinks that she is being cute, I hate to be touched by her, it makes my skin crawl, so much so, I feel like I might throw up. So, there I am watching TV and the touched me with her feet again. We previously had this conversation…”If you touch me with your feet, I will hit you.” So what does she do…she fucking does it again to test me. I responded the only way I know how, I slapped her in her diabetic nerothpathetic foot and she screamed and swore and threw her 13 year old girl sumo wrestler fit. I picked up my things and went to my room, where I haven’t left in 3 months. I don’t plan to leave my room until I move. Fucking Feesh!