“I need an officer out here before I be committin’ a 187 cause I’m about to kill this little bitch!” If I had a dollar for every time my mother called the police and threatened to kill me with blunt force trauma to the head if I didn’t eat the rest of my broccoli, I’d be able to pay off my bookie.  “Mam do you have a hammer?” Shit, I got the hammer when she was in a good mood. Though, looking back on it now, I know she was just doing it for my own good. Love you Mom, hope you make parole this time.