Mommy’s New Boyfriend
He promised us Disney World. Now we’re living in the garage.
Once upon a time, Mommy got a new boyfriend.
He was loud. Flashy. Said he was rich—probably.
And God, could he talk. He had a story for everything.
Told us he’d fix everything the old guy ruined.
Told us we’d have ice cream every day, free tickets to Disney World, and a brand new life we didn’t have to earn.
And Mommy believed him. So did a lot of folks.
He made them feel special. Heard. Seen. Angry in all the right directions.
He wasn’t like the others, they said.
He got it.
So she married him.
And that’s when the sledgehammer came out.
He didn’t fix the house.
He tore it down.
Said the walls were crooked.
Said the floors were corrupt.
Said the roof was leaking lies.
And now? We’re living in the garage.
No insulation.
No heat.
A leaky roof and a pile of promises that never got past the blueprint stage.
We’re still waiting on that trip to Disney.
Still waiting on the fabulous part.
Still being told this is just part of the renovation.
And every time we ask when the lights will be turned back on,
we’re told we’re the problem.
Not him. Never him.
Some of the neighbors still believe.
They wave flags with his face on them.
They paint hearts on the fence and yell when anyone complains.
And us?
We sit on lawn chairs next to a busted space heater, whispering,
“This isn’t what he promised.”
But we’re not supposed to say that.
Because that would upset Mommy.
And you don’t want to upset her new man.
Postscript
Written by Zee Zee Writer, who knows a con when she sees one and isn’t afraid to call it what it is.
Share this with someone who’s still waiting for ice cream.