There's a law that says "If it can go wrong, it will."

Well, gents, it has gone wrong.

A few days before Easter, my uncle's fiance came home drunk and stoned. And since we all know drugs are good and make you nice and peaceful, we can safely reject the possibility of their influence in her incredible outburst. She attacked him (I literally mean attacked), strangled her 11-year-old daughter, broke holes into the drywall of their home, and ruined some of their extremely expensive furniture, all in front of his and her four-month-old baby. So he kicked her out, called the police, and she spent a day or so in jail before her mother got her out.

A day or two before Easter, my mother was helping my uncle when she got a call from the mother of my uncle's ex-fiance, begging her to pick up some breast milk from the woman. So she went over, and while she was there, the two harpies assaulted my mother (who just got out of spinal surgery a few weeks ago) and stole the baby right out of her car. Thankfully, they live near a very nice family that we have known for years, and my mom had them to call when she got out.

On Easter, my piece-of-crap step-dad (who shall no longer be referred to as my step-dad, but as Dumbass, Fatass, Lazy-ass, Lardass, Asshat, Bastard, Redneck, Hick, Junkie, Druggie, Pothead, Idiot, and several other names.) looked kinda fishy. He was outside nearly asleep under a tree (we were at my uncle's house), which wouldn't have looked so weird if he wasn't wearing fancy work clothes. He looked weird on the couch as he slept there most of the day. And guess what my mom and uncle found out when we were all about to leave?

Two of my mother's pain pills (for her surgery) were missing, and 24 of my uncle's anxiety pills were missing.

Druggie has a long history of stealing my mother's medicines, as well as getting false prescriptions and other things that get him drugs.

We all knew instantly that he took them (my grandparents were furious beyond belief). After they looked for my uncle's anxiety pills for an hour, they told me, and I told them that he looked stoned half the day. They also told me this wonderful little gem: My uncle, who was fighting for custody of his baby, was being watched by the Department of Children and Families.

They had counted his pills the day before.

And they can come again, at any time, without notice.

If they found him with 24 less pills than what they counted the day before, he would have lost the baby instantly. With this in mind, my mom and grandmother (who is of the same opinion of Fatass as I am) confronted him. He then exploded at both of them, denied using anything (as he always does, of course), told them to go to Hell, and walked the twenty+ miles home.

When we got home that night, I immediately searched his truck (Idiot never locks the damn thing), and lo and behold: A pack of cigarettes. Did I mention that he was taking a very expensive medicine to quit smoking? So I show them to my mother, who gets even more pissed, and then I told her that I caught him watching pornography (not for the first time, of course) the night of her surgery.

The next day, he was screaming at my mother, was making cracks about how I don't excercise or eat right (Lardass weighs almost four hundred pounds, does nothing around the house, and smokes and steals drugs--was he in a position to be telling me about health?), and eventually he took some stuff and left. Now he's at his mother's house (his own mother has said that he's a lying sack of ****), and my mom is trying to set things right because she doesn't want a divorce (she is disabled and cannot financially support herself, me, and my little brother, and I can't support us either).

Oh, but it gets even better!

The next day, my uncle had a court appointment that would decide who got custody of his baby. His lawyer didn't make it.

The judge didn't even look at him.

The baby is now with the drinking, stoning, violent mother, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it.

My uncle got into a very bad car wreck later that day. His truck (which he bought less than a year ago) is undrivable, and he is in a back and neck brace.

Now, my mother is trying to dig up as much dirt on the shrew as she can, in hopes that the baby will be taken away from her.

So yes, my life has been going straight to hell. We're going to lose our satellight television, and possibly our Internet. My digestive problems have stirred up again (feels like the 2004 tsunami is in my stomach), and I can't think straight.