Yapping Mongrels

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned.

*.*.*.*

"You're not my father; you can't tell me what to do," sixteen year old Gloria Esposito sneered at her daddy, Jared Broussard.

Jared resisted the urge to slap his impertinent daughter. She was right; he wasn't her biological father, but for thirteen of her sixteen years, he'd done everything he could to be her daddy.

"Yeah," thirteen year old Kathleen Esposito giggled.

"As long as you're living under my roof..." Jared started.

"Oh yeah, what the fuck ever," Gloria sneered.

Kathleen gasped, then giggled at her sister's vulgarity.

Jared turned and stomped from the room.

"Yeah, go on, run away, just like you did last time you found out Momma was fucking around on you," Gloria jeered.

"You know she ain't stopped, right?" Kathleen called out.

That declaration stopped Jared in his tracks.

"What? What did you say?" he thundered.

"Oh Jesus, Daddy, like you couldn't tell?" Gloria actually laughed.

"She's been fucking Chad..." Kathleen ticked off on her fingers.

"My real father," Gloria laughed smugly.

"...Tommy, my real daddy, Uncle Billy, Mr. Leblanc..." Kathleen continued.

"The guy next door," Gloria clarified which Mr. Leblanc they were talking about.

Jared stormed away again. He wasn't just seeing red, he was seeing blood red.

He had loved Gloria with all his heart when the child was born. He had not loved Rochelle Esposito-Broussard, but he had loved his daughter. It had broken his heart when a former classmate, friend of his wife had let it slip that his wife had been unfaithful. So he demanded a blood test on Gloria, and a blood test on the unborn daughter. Both had come back with different fathers, neither of which was Jared.

Because he had loved the toddler Gloria, Jared had applied for the right to adopt her. His attorney had asked Jared if he thought it right, that Gloria would have a daddy that loved her, but the infant Kathleen did not? So Jared had relented and applied for the right to adopt Kathleen as well.

Every Wednesday, and every other weekend, Jared when to the Esposito home and picked up his girls. He brought them to his home, played Candy Land and Chutes & Ladders for hours on end. When they learned their numbers, he bought a box of dominos and taught them how to play. Then he taught them the fun of setting the dominos up, then knocking them down.

Each time he'd pick his girls up, each time he'd drop them off, Rochelle, their mother, his ex-wife would be there, blue eyes boring into his brown eyes. Each time, she'd beg and plead for another chance. Each time she'd promise to be the best wife.

"Maybe should done that uh, the FIRST time we was married, huh?" Jared snapped.

When Gloria was ten, a teenaged girl was texting on her phone and jumped the curb. The driver felt the crunch of a bicycle, panicked and tried to run. Thankfully, a fire hydrant foiled her escape. But for four long days, Gloria lay in a hospital bed, beautiful head swathed in bandages, small body encased in a fiberglass shell.

Jared stayed in the hospital room with his baby. The only time he would leave was when Rochelle or Kathleen was there in Gloria's room. He'd go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat, then rush back up.

Somewhere in all of the heartache and prayers, he found himself kissing Rochelle. He'd clung to her with the desperation of a drowning man, lips and tongues mashing violently against each other.

When Gloria did wake up, she tried so hard to smile, to be a brave little girl. The pain was excruciating, though and she whimpered when her father gently touched her tiny hand. Then, after three weeks, she was released from the hospital and brought home, to her grandparents' home. Again, Jared was there almost every day, after work. He even refused offshore work, even though those assignments paid more.

Gloria's first few visits to Daddy's house were hard on Jared. He had to care for her, as if she was an infant again. Thankfully, this did not involve diapers, but he had to carry her to the bathroom, had to assist her in cleaning herself.

"Daddy, Momma loves you," Gloria announced on one of her visits.

"Yeah, Daddy, she told me so," Kathleen echoed.

"And I love her too," Jared said, helping Gloria with her Math homework. "After all, we got two beautiful girls, don't we? No, no, Sweetheart, sixteen times two point five, what's point five, what's half of sixteen?"

"Then why you make her cry?" Kathleen asked.

"I make her cry?" Jared asked and nodded when Gloria wrote 40 as her answer.

"Yeah, she cries when you just leave," Gloria said.

"Well, Sweetheart, see, me and your Momma, we used to live together, but then Momma started kissing another boy and decided she loved him more than she loved Daddy," Jared said, giving a sanitized version of Rochelle's blatant infidelities.

"She says she's sorry and won't do it no more," Kathleen offered.

They'd talked, quietly. Rochelle swore that she was not making Gloria and Kathleen say these things. She swore she was not using their girls to coerce or manipulate or influence him.

"But you remember when we was kissing? When Gloria was in the hospital?" Rochelle asked quietly.

Yeah," Jared agreed.

"Man, I ain't never been so happy," Rochelle admitted.

Stupid. He knew it was stupid. He knew he was asking for it, asking have his heart broken all over again. But Jared did let Rochelle, and his two girls talk him into trusting his ex-wife again.

The passion they'd had the first few years seemed to die down somewhat. Jared attributed it to the fact that they were both in their thirties. Connie Esposito, Rochelle's mother suffered a debilitating stroke shortly after Jared and Rochelle's reunion and Rochelle spent a great deal of time caring for her mother. That certainly would take some of the passion out of a marriage.

Then Gloria got busted for selling marijuana at school. The police were involved, Gloria was expelled, and now the girl was laughing at him.

"You're not my father. You can't tell me what to do," Gloria Esposito sneered at him.

"Need to get your fucking ass home. Now," Jared ordered his wife when she answered her cell phone.

"What? What's wrong?" Rochelle asked, baffled.

"Need. To. Get. Your. Fucking. Lying. Cheating. Whore. Ass. Home. NOW!" Jared screamed into the phone.

Penny Jones was once again retained as Jared's attorney. Debra Bertrand, Rochelle's attorney petitioned the court for the house, even though it had been Jared's mother's house before he'd bought it. It had been Jared's home when he was a child, he'd had the house before he and Rochelle reunited. And now it looked as if he would lose it in the divorce.

And Gloria and Kathleen were swearing, at the depositions, that he, Jared Broussard not only knew about Rochelle's numerous affairs, but actually condoned them.

"Guess he figures, since he's putting his hands all over me, it's all good Momma's off fucking one of her boyfriends," Gloria claimed, brown eyes calm, cool.

Chad Theriot, Gloria's biological father agreed, Jared Broussard had full knowledge that he wasn't man enough to satisfy his wife so allowed Rochelle to get some dick on the side. Tommy Huvall, Jr. concurred. Jared was a wimp that not only tolerated, but encouraged his wife's adultery.

After giving his deposition, Chad started up his 1971 Dodge Challenger. He called out to Rochelle as she approached her own car, a 1999 Toyota Camry. With a smile, Rochelle reversed her path and got into Chad's car.

"Hey, how about a little..." Chad husked, unzipping his jeans.

Rochelle bent over and began to hungrily suck Chad's cock. In the rearview mirror, Chad saw a few people coming out of the law office of Coutre, Banks & Associates, so put the car into gear.

The explosion shattered all the north windows of the Coutre, Banks & Associates office building. The Toyota Camry was a twisted hunk of metal, as was the minivan to the left of Chad's car.

The three people that had been coming out of the office building suffered permanent hearing loss. All three had to be hospitalized; one slipped into a coma due to the concussion she received from the blast.

Chad's left arm, which had been dangling out of his open window was discovered nearly one hundred yards away. Someone had already stolen Chad's Omega watch and two rings before the Crime Scene Investigators found the limb.

When she was informed of her mother's tragic, violent death, Gloria screamed, "I'm sorry! Daddy wasn't really touching me! I made that shit up!"

Kathleen fainted when she heard about her mother's death. Upon awakening, she too was very quick to recant her testimony.

"Well, guess don't need a divorce no more," Jared said heavily when he learned of Rochelle's death.

He was shocked when he found himself in handcuffs, charged with the murders of Chad Theriot and Rochelle Esposito. Many fans of the local drag racing circuit were calling for Jared's execution. His home was vandalized several times.

In a move that surprised everyone, Jared fired Penny Jones as his attorney and opted to go with a public defender. Kaitlin Monroe-Paice was assigned to him and began preparations for his defense.

A loud cheer went up when Jared Broussard was found guilty of first degree murder in the death of Chad Theriot and aggravated manslaughter in the death of Rochelle Esposito-Broussard. Kaitlin hung her head and reflected, at least she'd been able to bring Rochelle's death down to manslaughter. As it was, she was going to have to argue against the death penalty for her client.

"Mrs. Monroe-Paice, I know you done the best you could yeah," Jared sighed as the bailiff approached. "Believe me; I didn't do it. Despite everything? I loved her, I loved our daughters. I wouldn't have taken their mother from them."

"I do," Kaitlin said, a tear trickling down her cheek. "I do believe you. Why you think I tried so God damned hard?"

They hugged quickly, then Jared nodded to the bailiff. The bailiff attached the shackles and pulled Jared toward the rear doors of the courtroom.

Because of the rabid fans of Chad Theriot, security was tight. But one woman, pregnant belly looking ready to pop, did manage to get through the throng. She screamed that Jared should die the same way Chad had died and spat in Jared's face.

At his sentencing, Jared was allowed to say a few words. He stood, looking older than his thirty seven years of age. He respectfully addressed the court, again declared his innocence, declared that, despite everything, he still loved, cared for Rochelle and above all, did love his daughters and would have never taken their mother from them.

Having been found guilty of the murder of Chad Theriot, a former classmate, and Rochelle Esposito, his wife, then ex-wife, then wife again, he understood that he must be sentenced. He asked for leniency, and also asked that they continue to investigate, continue to search for the real killer or killers.

Francis Esposito also addressed the court. He spoke of Jared Broussard in very glowing terms. He spoke of a devoted husband, a loving father, a fine man any dad would be proud to call son, a man he was proud to call son in law.

Connie also spoke, her speech horribly garbled by her stroke. But, she too spoke of a loving man, a dedicated father, a devoted husband.

The judge handed down the sentence of life plus twenty, with no possibility of parole. Again, Jared hugged his attorney before being led away. Again security was tight; fans of Chad Theriot screaming at him, trying to break through the throng of armed guards. Performance 12 News kept one camera trained on Jared Broussard's face, another on the screaming, pushing struggling crowd.

In Mumphrey Maximum, Jared was put into General Population. He'd been in jail for more than one year by now, and had heard from a few of his rotating array of fellow cellmates the horrors of Mumphrey.

Knowing he'd never breathe free air again, Jared did not hesitate to lash out the first time an inmate put his hand on Jared's ass. Jared looked scrawny, but years of hard work on the oil rigs had made him wiry, strong.

And anger made him fierce, unrelenting. He spent a week in solitary for the savage beating he'd given the other prisoner.

"Shit. This is a punishment?" Jared asked himself.

Upon Jared's release back into General, Brian Hart, a three hundred pound African-American man waddled over to Jared, reached out and gave Jared's sweet white ass a squeeze. Then the man stood, chuckling.

Jared's knee lifted Brian off his feet. Jared kneed Brian twice more in the groin before the guards again grabbed him.

"Damn, Broussard," Pike, one of the guards said. "Like it in solitary, huh?"

"Not really," Jared said. "But like it a lot more than being someone's punk ass bitch."

Fortunately for Jared, Rat Face, Brian's current bitch took offence to his man going after the new boy. In line in the cafeteria, Brian grunted when he felt a blinding pain in his left side. Before he could turn to beat the shit out of the punk ass mother fucker dared touch him, Brian felt another blinding, searing pain in his right side. Brian Hart died of his stab wounds, lying on the concrete floor of the cafeteria as guards wrestled a sobbing, screaming Rat Face to the ground.

"Broussard, see if you can be a nice boy, huh?" Pike asked as he unlocked a cell door.

"I'll try," Jared said flatly.

The three prisoners regarded the scrawny white man, the newcomer in their cell. Jared looked at the two Latin gang members and the one African American.

"Okay, so, which bed is mine?" Jared asked bluntly.

"None of them, bitch," Raoul Montoya sneered.

"Oh. Okay, which one is yours?" Jared said, punch smashing Raoul's nose. "Ever call me 'bitch' again, I'll just fucking kill you, pussy."

"Broussard, one more. One more and your ass is going Angola, feel me?" the guard said as Jared was again brought down to Solitary.

Raoul, Jackie, and Tin Man were escorted to the prison infirmary.

The guard again reminded Jared, one more altercation, regardless of circumstance, he would be remanded to Angola. Jared just nodded his head.

"So, which bunk is mine?" Jared asked the three occupants of his new cell.

"Top left," the hulking African-American prisoner said, pointing.

"I'm Chief," a severely acne scarred Native American male said.

"Professor," a light skinned African-American man said.

"And I'm Shortstop," the hulking African-American man said.

"Jared," Jared said.

"Oh, we know who you are, Solitary," Shortstop chuckled. "Believe me, brother, we all know who the fuck you are."

"I mean, shit, kicked Brian's ass? Ain't nobody ever believe that shit ever happen," Chief said, shaking his head.

"Put his hands on me," Jared shook his head and scrambled up onto his bunk. "Ain't nobody going put their hands on me, feel me?"

"Uh, you ain't no bed wetter, huh?" Shortstop asked, joking.

"Maybe," Jared said. "Don't know. Ain't nobody lived long enough tell me."

Three years into Jared's sentence, Shortstop was killed during a riot. Chief was crippled during that same riot and was moved to a different facility. Professor moved to the bunk underneath Jared's and the two watched time drag by. Jared was sorry that Shortstop was gone; the man had been a good friend. Chief had been a nuisance, a chronic liar and manipulator, but Jared did not believe the man had deserved to become a paraplegic.

"Yo, yo, yo," the Latin youth barked as he entered the cell. "Y'all listen on up, feel me? Outside? I killed three mother fuckers just 'cause didn't like the way they was looking, feel me? Ain't afraid do that shit in here too, feel me?"

"What the fuck ever, kid, shut the fuck up," Jared snorted.

"Jesus, kid, this ain't fucking TV, this shit's for real, feel me?" Professor sneered and rolled over.

The next one brought to the cell tried the same tactic, the swaggering, posturing, the loud declaration of how bad he was. Solitary, Professor, and Kid just looked at him, snorted in disdain and rolled over.

"So, which one you pussies going be my bitch?" the young man sneered.

"Try that shit and next dick you suck will be your own," Jared warned.

"Yeah, white boy? Think..." the young man said then crumpled to the floor as Jared's punch knocked him unconscious.

"God damn it, Broussard, what'd I tell you, huh?" Pike complained as he unlocked the cell door.

"Wasn't me," Jared said.

"Think he's epileptic," Professor said, indicating the prone young man on the floor.

"Yeah, comes in here, then just falls down," Kid agreed.

"Wasn't me," Jared smiled as the other guard slapped the face of the prisoner, trying to revive him.

Eppy (short for epileptic) learned, shut your mouth, don't make waves, but don't take no shit neither and fit in fine. In the cafeteria, in the yard, Solitary, Professor, Kid, and Eppy had each other's backs. They watched out for each other.

Five years, five long dismal years had dragged by when Kaitlin Monroe-Paice showed up at Mumphrey. Jared actually smiled, seeing the heavyset, but still quite attractive attorney in the visitor's lounge.

"Let me know and I'll put you in for conjugal visits," Jared joked.

"Uh huh, down boy," Kaitlin shook her blonde head. "I am happily married and plan on staying that way."

Then she let Jared know that Clifton Abrams, April's husband, had just been arrested for blowing April's car up, killing April.

"Next door neighbor said she saw April start the car, put it in gear, and then the car wasn't there anymore," Kaitlin explained. "Just this big old fireball sitting there."

"Just like..." Jared said.

"Exactly like what happened to Chad and your wife," Kaitlin agreed.

Clifton was very quick to confess. Being in the latter stages of cirrhosis of the liver, he knew the possibility of him ever seeing prison was remote, so he almost gleefully confessed.

"Guess bitch forgot I'm a chemical engineer," the man giggled, sweat pouring freely down his shiny face.

"But why'd you kill her?" Lieutenant Elise Richards asked, pushing her long blonde hair behind an ear.

"She was fucking that Billy St. Charles. You seen his face? Son of a bitch kisses asphalt doing forty, face looks like a cheese grater and she's still fucking him," Clifton sobbed.

He took a sip of the bitter coffee, hand shaking horribly. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I mean, shit, after I killed that mother fucker Chad 'I think I'm so great' Theriot, sorry about Rochelle, though, God she was pretty. And them tits, oh they was nice, she was a dancer once, know that? After I blew her shit head boyfriend up, think she'd have learned, huh?" Clifton said. "God, why I can't smoke in here, huh?"

"Wait a minute," Elise asked, blue eyes opening wider. "Did you say..."

"April used date that Chad ass hole. Then, come to find out, after we're married? She's still seeing him, fucking him every chance they get," Clifton said, again wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve. "So, a little ether, a little filament switch, don't even have to pop the hood; dumb ass left the window down."

Clifton giggled. "Oh, she was sweet as honey after that. Sweet as honey. Then we find out I got cirrhosis, guess she thinks I'm not going do anything."

The remnants of the cup of coffee spilled onto the table as Clifton lay his head down. Elise watched as the man sobbed.

"Why, God damn it? Why, huh April? Why'd you have to fuck around behind my back?" the man wailed.

"Rather she fuck around in front of you?" Lieutenant Steven Hebert muttered to himself.

Elise shot her fellow officer a scathing look as she sopped up the spilled coffee. Steve smiled apologetically and shrugged.