CHAPTER 28: The Opera: Act III; Pt. 5 [cont. 6]
From "The Saga of One F**ked Mother
On the last sneak visit with her boys, Legion tells Jesse that she is going to write a book so they will know the truth about how Herry took them away from her with lies to the court. Jesse tells her about a $100K movie deal Herry and his attorney had been negotiating about their case. Legion is horrified. He would have used it to make her look like a crazy, vengeful ex-wife, as he had done with the local newspaper article.
Legion muses about how Herry is doing everything in his power to destroy her, to drive her to commit suicide, because she dares stand up to him and his abuse, sex addiction, lies, and narcissism, as well as the theft and alienation of her children from her. But she is determined to outlast him and hold him accountable for the horrors he’s inflicted on the boys and her through a definitive exposé.
In the last section, it’s Spring '94 and Legion is busy doing all the work involved in filing her appeal of the unjust Family Court ruling, in which she again lost all custody and contact with her boys. She needs to prepare her argument at the hearing in front of three justices, but she makes time to once again travel cross-country to visit clandestinely with her boys.
CHAPTER 28 of Mother-Fucking: The Saga of One Fucked Mother begins with Act III, Part 4 of “The Opera” from Book 3. The Opera has three Acts with five Parts—one for each of the three Family Court and two Appellate Court trials. Chapter 28 covers all of Act III: Part 4: the third Family Court trial, and Part 5: the second Appellate trial. This is a long chapter and will be published in newsletter-sized bites.
Dr. Blue’s novel is based on her own experience of the Custody Crisis. It uniquely conveys how Family Court judges are “mother-fucking” women—a form of systemic oppression—as protagonist Legion is systematically and methodically deprived of her children and money and reduced to “one fucked mother”.
Chapters are stand-alone interesting so you can begin reading anywhere. A Cast of Characters follows to help readers at any point. All published chapters are included in the Section: “Saga of One F**ked Mother” accessible on the top bar of the home page of Women’s Coalition News & Views. Sequential chapters are emailed out every Wednesday so make sure to subscribe if you haven’t yet!
TEASERS
…I was pissed at myself that this had not come to my mind on my own, that I hadn’t thought up first the fact that Herry Edinsmaier would, indeed, try something so evilly walloping as this movie deal … So that I could have been a step or two or three ahead of him on spilling such pigswill, on felling such fuckage.
Herry didn’t exactly get me as hypnotized as he would’ve liked—after successfully wresting away from me the Truemaier Boys and vanquishing me to invisibility: I never did seem to ‘do’ for Herry what he so wanted me, by my own hand, to get done for him: that is, the killing of Legion True ... by my own self.
…That, my holding the Great and Wonderful Healer Dr. Herod Edinsmaier to accountability … … that is how I, Dr. Legion True, most piss off Herry!
BOOK 3: Dr. True's Opera in Three Acts—with Five Parts
CHAPTER 28: The Opera: Act III; Part 5 [cont. 6]
…And the one soooo very not-at-all funny event of this second April’s excursion out to Grubtrop––through which I still managed to smirk to myself? Well, that one would be the occasion of my and Jesse’s little car ride on over to a small city park on the outskirts of Montclank on the 08th day of April 1994, when I had had, on this first Friday out, the rental’s front passenger seat rather stowed with much of the trip’s stuff. Jesse traveled to this surreptitious site, then, sitting just behind me––where it was that I could see his face fully in my rearview mirror. Allya’all will recall, Jury, from Chapter Four: This was the incident of the white knuckles on Aspire’s steering wheel. Jesse had seen me as Sam around the track after school and approved of leaving the grounds to quickly get away from the other athletes, I am thinking, so as not to have me not only possibly discovered but also so that there would be no need for Jesse’s explaining to anyone who the freakin’ hell I was to him and why someone such as this ‘Sam’ dude came around the schoolyard practice.
“Before I die, Jesse, I am getting this down on paper. I have to write this down,” I had told him––into the mirror just as we were pulling over to a complete stop inside the Montclank park in order to be able to visit freely. “I am not going to be dead and have had no way of leaving my Truth for you three to know. All you know now is what the judges ordered and what Herry and Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive have told you. So then: you don’t know. You all just don’t know. I have to write a book, Jesse. I have to.”
To which statement of mine, Jesse, not batting one eyelash even and just exactly as distantly aloof and as detached and as indifferent … as freaking unfeeling as Herry himself is in all matters ,,, earth-shattering … replied, “ ... Okay, okay, sure. Sure, Ma, but the TV movie deal fell through cuz of you, didn’t it?”
Predator Herod Edinsmaier tried to connive and to contrive with high-dollar Attorney Shindy Scheisser to make money off of my and the Truemaier Boys’ horror. Principally by using his and Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive’s and aa’er Varry Wussamai’s lies. Even the flamboyant, bloviating stretches that weren’t even near half-truths uttered from Dr. Edinsmaier’s former employer, Dr. Freddie Goldstein, as that fat man had flounced himself so as to sprawl out upon the witness chair during his testifying. That pretentiousness and posturing which amounted to courtroom theatre in order to cover up the reality of the unaccountability of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier––even in his workplace situations as a pathology resident at a university’s medical center. Those falsehoods including Pedophile-“Doctor” Richard Gardner’s fictitious, bogus yet so, so brutalizing “parental alienation syndrome”––but only as his woman-loathing, fake fuck is exclusively used and accused against and clobbered onto mothers––now permanently entered into various courts’ documents everywhere as ‘evidence’. And those very same lies and denials all, every last one of them, bolstered and backed up by reams of so-respectable and so-honorable-sounding judge names and those men’s androcentrically decreed, thus, certainly-so-set-in-stone and binding words.
Lots of money. Through the based-on-a-true-story Hollywood or New York City film industry. Well, as a matter of fact, Jury, for about as exactly as much worth as that term life insurance policy which, along with Frieda Chicken Guthrie’s mothering encouragement, I still own––and which is most current and active … and seemingly enrages Pissant, Tiny-Plane Pilot Herry––to this actual day, that is.
“$100,000 plus 5 percent,” Jesse, blasé and carefree-like and seemingly himself already very, very much desensitized to the complete revulsion that all of this revelation rather was, announced to me from the backseat that he had actually seen that figure stated pretty much in that exact phraseology and positively confirmed to his satisfaction the fact that the made-for-television movie rights’ contract itself was in thickness and breadth … “many, many pages” long.
Two things Jesse did not know. “What’s the ‘… plus 5 percent …’ mean, Mom?” and whether or not, for sure, it had been because of me––and because of my not consenting on my end of the industry’s handshake to the whole quite-literally mother-fucking deal altogether, that the entire filming fuckage had (… apparently …) fallen through! “Wasn’t it, Mom?”
Of course, stunned, I had not one frigging inkling about the whole damn shebang, let alone specifically regarding the “5 percent” part of it all, so had lamely mumbled something back to Jesse about how all of this was probably just a pretty ordinary matter, “Ya’ know, made-for-TV movie contracts, no doubt, are, Jesse, ya’ know, kind of standard stuff. Routine and all. Prob’bly.” Trying so, so hard not to let Jesse see the hands quaking in their grip on the steering wheel and the lone tear tracking its way down the cheek to my chest. “M’god, om’gaaaawd , m’fuckinggaaaawd, what the hell has the Great and Wonderful ‘Healer’ Herod up and fucking done now? What has Herry-Daddee bin Terrorist in his predation gone and done now?!” These words in my mind’s ear by the voice of the DEhuman who’d thought she could conjecture virtually all of what Herry could “come up with” to core-murder me. But this? This one had me entirely off guard. Off hypervigilance, actually, is more like how completely I had just been caught.
I was mortified, I am ashamed to say. Humiliation I can handle; hell, degradation is so very commonplace for us DEhumans and geometrically multiplied so for those of us DEhumans who are court-bashed mothers. The shame and embarrassment I had was not in knowing Herry and Mr. Shindy Scheisser tried this. It was in now knowing that Herry had surprised me at his trying to get this particular subcategory of mother-fucking accomplished. Thinking woman that I am, I was pissed at myself that this had not come to my mind on my own, that I hadn’t thought up first the fact that Herry Edinsmaier would, indeed, try something so evilly walloping as this movie deal … in order to just stash more $cash$ into his wallet. So that I could have been a step or two or three ahead of him on spilling such pigswill, on felling such fuckage.
The very next afternoon after this Montclank exchange with Jesse inside the rented Aspire, I had met up for an outing with Zane. We had agreed to get together for a visit in the one shelter with its two picnic tables of that itty bitty park, as a matter of fact, not too far from Herry’s house––the same one actually at where, several days later, I dropped Mirzah off after our last breakfast with one another at the Bob Evans’ Restaurant. There, Zane confirmed all of what Jesse had told me––right down to and including the fact that it was Herry’s wholly known and utterly attention-grabbing intent ‘to prove’ to ‘the public masses’ inside the entrails of this television film special … just how it was that Legion True had killed him, … him, the poor, poor innocent biodaddee, Dr. Herod Edinsmaier. “Well, you know, don’tcha, Ma,” Zane finished his query more in the style of a declaratively stated fact than at all a question, “in it Herry was gonna make you out to look like … the murderer.”
This unnerving unearthing necessitated telephone calls home to Grace, to Linda, Cyan Song, Stormy, Teri Lynn and to László. We all agreed that there was probably nothing, without my and my contractual dealings with film officials through attorneys, nothing at all that Horrid Herry could actually ‘do’ to go ahead with this made-for-television movie thing. I calmed. And exhaled––even without my rocking chair … there in the back of Ol’ Black, … to expedite and advance sleep.
A thing––sleep––for which I have great reverence. Speaking of movies and matters theatrical and Herry’s many, many-page, very thick film contract for $100,000 plus 5 percent of something else, I am reminded, the similarities are so stark, so blatant ... of Rabid Woman-Hater August Strindberg, a Swedish playwright of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In his 1888 play Miss Julie, rapist and hypnotist Jean, who is of course the author himself played out in the 1999 movie by Mr. Peter Mullen, states to Miss Julie, that role blazingly portrayed by Ms. Saffron Burrows, that “sleep should be respected.” This from Jean’s lips just before Strindberg’s character rapes Miss Julie, then hypnotizes her into committing suicide! This from out the pen of the guy who believed in his time as single-mindedly as Pornography-Purveying Pappy Herry does now in the rotgut inferiority and filthy, wiling connivance of us DEhumans, … actually writing Poet Verner von Heidenstam this mother-fuck, “… and if I had to define my present standpoint it would be: Woman, being small and foolish and therefore evil, should be suppressed like barbarians and thieves. She is useful only as an ovary and womb ...” and in 1887, this separately written fuckage from daMan Strindberg: “ ... all the things I have tossed off! ... four kids, the fifth on its way, and two wives.”
Herry didn’t exactly get me as hypnotized as he would’ve liked to have—after successfully wresting away from me the Truemaier Boys and vanquishing me to invisibility: I never did seem to ‘do’ for Herry what he so wanted me, by my own hand, to get done for him: that is, the killing of Legion True ... by my own self. By my committing that particular suicide so as for Herry to have succeeded in getting me … dead––dead, dead, dead as he had long, long wished for me to be! Yet, of course, … without Dr. Herry Edinsmaier’s actually having to do the messiness of murdering me himself––and, thereby, saving his own skin with his own money-earning prowess left quite intact and very much untouched, unthreatened.
* * * *
The based-on-“a-true-story” thing? I have had a long, long time, most of it all quite alive and deeeep-breathing myself actually, to ponder on what Herry Edinsmaier would have coached “his” movie’s producers, its director, the writers and screenplay artists, the movie’s casting chief and its technical-or content-authenticity people … about what he would have advised crew members into actually placing into the context of its filming. Into the plot, the drama, the story itself!
Would Dr. Herod Edinsmaier have really, true as they all are, tried to include in the Strindberg-styled movie all, or any, of his behaviors, of his own comings and goings and thinkings and doings, his daily itty bitty indecencies and, well, those entirely and mother-fuckingly evil ones also? Those, too, of Herry’s own woman-loathing dictator, the effective, mighty mentoring and wife- and daughter-crushing guru, Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier? The true memoir, the real life and the rurally isolated and roughshod-ridden “times” of his soooo, so dominated mother, Detanimod, 14 “times” made pregnant in 20 consecutive years’ worth of her very own breathing!? The “workings” or, more accurately and importantly, the utter absence of any work by Herry’s sister, Dr. Mi Sprision O’Revinnoco, to ‘do’ as she, a pediatrician, was required and mandated by compulsory United States law to do! Mi Sprision and O’Revinnoco––as in … misprision and conniver. Instead of her reporting the crimes of dissemination of harmful materials to minors, of child endangerment and reporting her brother, Herry, Dr. Mi Sprision O'Revinnoco concealed knowledge of Herry’s felonies, ones in which she did not assist him nor ones in which did she participate but, nonetheless, crimes of which she was most, most aware. Hell, I’d fucking begged her! Begged her for her help. So, she knew of them. Hers merely an itty bitty, little neglect of duty by a public official, a doctor, a children’s physician, a pediatrician!!!!, for chris’sake? Suppose Herry would include all of that in his film? And the acts of those other Edinsmaier family members of his in the movie, too? Like his brother Atwater’s as well as his own, Herry’s, fondling (at a minimum!)––and worse! Worse than their frotteuristic liberties! Those of the two brothers’ actions just taken and perpetrated––perpetrated by them upon their three littlest sisters, Murielle, Celeste and Kay?! For the teevee audience’s “education!” … any of these behaviors, too, in Always-a-Teacher Herry’s ‘edifying documentary’ for the masses, do you think, Jury?!
Would Herry recount in his movie how Daddee Juggern, daMan’s very own wife-loathing father, had forced Detanimod to climb and take harvest from the mulberry tree, pregnant for her very, very first time––and then tell and show us all, in it, how the first-time mama-to-be had slipped and fallen down out of the tree … but caught herself yet, of course, not before mightily pulling and stretching herself so!?! Such that she ... well, she fucking miscarried! Detanimod aborted! Forced his spouse, Juggern had, into this heinous and entirely preventable “accident” because of his own tyrannical commands as a ‘husband’. “Just cuz a woman’s pregnant doesn’t mean she can’t work like a slave,” Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier had mother-fuckingly maintained. “Like the slave she truly is for you,” he, indeed, most certainly got across … seeded … to his six, strapping male offspring. To his six sons! Exactly such the same androcentrically generated tripe as had been patriarchally religious “leader” and “reformer” Martin Luther’s and playwright August Strindberg’s assessments of us DEhumans as well. Before cancer besieged and overtook her daily breathing, in her own few yet forceful breathes, Detanimod herself revealed to two of us daughters-in-law that that “wife-as-slave” directive––had been one on which she, right around the 1930-decade’s midst after the Great Crash and Depression, had repeatedly been soooo, so well-instructed––“till I got it!” “Taught” to her … by the DEhuman’s very own nasty ( … read that, male-identified) … in-laws!
Would Herry have the screenwriters compose the parts with the scenario which was the one accountable for Detanimod’s “need” for Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier’s two-month (at the least!) banishment from her marital bed, … hell, from the entire physicality of the gawddamn farmhouse altogether!?! Exiled by her, his very own wife, by overwhelmingly fucked Detanimod he was, Juggern Aut the great Bass County republican party leader and lay priest of Fatlantic’s saints john and jude roman catholic church, to live all of those days and nights of his down at the Holstein beasts’ milking parlor, she in outraged and constant fear for the past, real or future, impending rapes by him of her very own baby girls!?! Would Herry tell the Truth?! Finally?!
Would Herry tell the Truth?! The outrageous and so sick, sick Truth that never, never, never in all of those 49 years and 11 months before she died in her lovely springtime, before she died then on the 10th day of May 1985, of metastasizing and fulminating ovarian … ovarian, fucking mind you !!!! … cancer, just one month’s worth of time shy of what would have been then that very June her 50th wedding anniversary to that tyrant and terrorist, the Truth that not one time ever did Juggern say to her, “I love you. Detanimod, I love you.” The literally mother-fucking, head-banging Truth that 14 pregnancies later, that 12 full-term birthings and 11 babies, five girls and six boys, later––all of them in the so short period of just 20 consecutive years’ span of one woman’s lifetime, all in just two decades’ time, and all, every fucking one of the 11 of them, all of them raised up to and through at least one college degree each, the Truth that: this specific woman-hater, Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier, Herry’s very own father, had done to his wife Detanimod just as he himself Herod had done to his own wife Legion: never, never, never, one time even, telling her that … he loved her.
The sick and twisted Truth would Herry tell? That Juggern, that roman catholic force of a violating and terrorizing old man, thought during all of his days, including those when he was actually quite a young man as well, that saying those three little words to a woman meant that he wanted to fuck her? To have sex with her? How would––in this film of Healer Herry’s … how would that stinking thinking play out, Jury?
And so, well, did he? In my head I screamed to that old despotic rapist, “Well, did you?! Did you, Juggern? Well?! Did you ever the fuck, fuck Detanimod!?! Even just 14 mother-fucking times in 50 frickin’ years, for chris’sake, Juggern!?!” Talk about Swedish Strindberg’s and German Luther’s incubator!!!! “To bear babies for him till she dies of it! That is all woman is good for. That is all she should ever want or need to be,” Luther declared once upon another mother-fuckingly sick, sick and European Witches’-Burning time. Well, the mother- and probable daughter-raping, pernicious savage who Juggern himself was, … he, at the least, didn’t kill the family’s farm dog or deliberately cause the deaths of Detanimod’s heifer calves––as other isolating and terrorizing, rural husbands most certainly have done––and, for that? For that she must have been ever, ever so grateful. Workers struggling against domestic abuse and violence and persons laboring at such battered women’s shelters today would be able, I am thinking, to use the patriarch, Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier, as the poster dad for … well, for literal father-fuckingness. And to show, to demonstrate, too, in Atwater Edinsmaier and in Herry Edinsmaier (at the least!) the veritable ‘ease’ by which such entire family fuck becomes cyclically … generational.
Would the Good and Most Wonderful Bull’s-Snout Sniffing Jokester have the movie’s scriptwriters interview and portray any of, let alone, the majority of the 40 to 50 DEhumans whom Herry himself had degradingly described inside the pages of his little blue, half-pint, spiral notebook with the Creighton University emblem on its cover? And, particularly from out of said notebook, about Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive would Dr. Edinsmaier carefully explain to the film’s directors what––as Herry had also long, long ago whispered to me in his version of ‘sweet nothin’s’ during his rendition of ‘foreplay lovemaking’–– … what his Next Cunt in the Stash, his Sheriff of Nottingham to the Boys and to me, had really been to him when Herry was a student back at Fatlantic High School, that is: “a very fat girl who used to talk to me between classes at the lockers at school” instead of … his “high-school sweetheart”––which was, now, how he was trying to verbally parade her around as, then, having meant to him.
And since inside an American “civil” court of family law it is easier there to lie to and to deceive others than almost anywhere else in the entire World, would Liar Edinsmaier merely continue as Pants On Fire or would he at last come clean about his having schmoozed and hoodwinked the mousy, frumpy custody evaluator, Ms. Male-Identified Carrie Canard? About his having been throughout every single one of our 12½ years of married and parenting lives together a praetorian, diehard atheist suddenly gone back, when pressing for custody of Zane, Jesse and Mirzah, to disingenuous genuflectin’ and to faking fundamentalist-faithfulness to the bazillion canons of roman catholicism in order to fool deciders in charge of custody determination?
Would Dr. Edinsmaier in made-for-television “reality” finally be at all truthful about those two women whom he, on two separate occasions, left lying anesthetized, unconscious and unattended by him and his “professional” expertise upon small Iowa towns’ operating room tables –– without his services as a frozen – section pathologist upon whom they, their families, their surgeons and their OR staffs all absolutely depended? Left them both there Narcissist and Duty – Derelict Herry did, whilst he slept in, the two DEhumans to be later awakened from their unimportance––but yet to not know if they were or were not … whole, fine and healthy!
Would we all view in the film, Jury, Dr. Edinsmaier’s slashing, under-his-breath, verbal assault along with his sideways smirking sneer over to Zane and to Mirzah and to Jesse in my presence and all of us constrained and, thus, captured within the Shitbox Dodge wagon? The one about my participation in the 1987 Iowa Games road race? “Finish the 10K?! Hell! Legion couldn’t even find the track to run it on! Let alone, finish it!” And would that particular truth-telling be followed by an accurate accounting of the snidest attack on me of nearly all time: Herry Edinsmaier’s Sunday, 02 October 1988, upside-my-skull wallop––wherein the Teacher, with all three Truemaier Boys again listening, picked up that nearby object off his Othello Drive rolltop escritoire, the thing that turned out to be a used, unwashed, stainless steel (and not a sterling silver) teaspoon and possessively swung it pendulum-style betwixt his right thumb and index finger back and forth and back and forth like a metronome directly in front of my face, “Fuck, Cunt! I don’t have ‘my doctor-doctor wife’ to dangle in front of anyone or show off to my family and friends anymore!” Me––me, the mother who had literally grown out of herself the three most perfect, most Aryan, blonde, blue-eyed boy children ever. EVER. About and to me the Great Healer had just called me the most massive behemoth of a fucked-mother failure.
Would we see in the movie how Dr. Edinsmaier had helped his eldest subscribe in 11-year-old Zane’s own name to a year’s worth of Playboy magazine and then, when it arrived every month in its blackened, plain, plastic wrapper, how it was that all four of them, the Great Healer and the three Truemaier Boys, retired with that particular month’s issue behind the locked Othello Drive den door so that Herry could, physician which he indeed was, “check on” their emerging, pubescent physical development––or so he would tell me (who wasn’t, of course, allowed inside the room) that Daddee-Herry “needed” to do?
And later on, when Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive and Minor Daughter Mary Jane entered their lives, would all we viewers get to know about the jokes, the horrible, degrading jokes against us DEhumans, and to see examples of the gem-studded condom and the pornographic greeting cards and other sex toys which the Boys had been encouraged to help their father pick out to send Ms. McLive? And about his perping upon my best friend Grace, after Herry and I were separated and awaiting final divorce papers, of his indecent frotteuristic brushing against her thigh on saint cecil’s catholic and most ‘holy’ of private, elementary school bleachers at our two sons’ crowded basketball games? That would be part of the movie, too, would it? And would Homophobe Herry have the scriptwriters make sure they told the truth about Scheisser’s accusatorily suggesting, in court to the custody-deciding judges, that László and I were lovers––when László is ... gay!?! Maybe, however, that alone about László had been enough to have, in the movie, the judges deem me unfit and unsafe and unstable as a parent, that is, because of my having a gay male friend, distinguished and decorated university organic chemistry professor though he be, … sometimes around my Boys!
About Herry Edinsmaier’s forcing the Ames Tribune pogrom against me and against Reporter Abbie Gaffey and the identification in it of all of the Boys by their actual names as well as that 25 September 1990 front page article’s subsequent disbursement to all of my Ames area veterinary job prospects which, afterwards, to the Boys Herry cowardly tried to pawn off this action of his as having been done by Shyster Scheisser … all on that lawyer’s own and ‘not at all because of Herry’s goading on’ of Dr. True’s career-murder and his paying off Scheisser, his employee, to perpetrate such retaliating and punishing and life-altering reprisal!
Would Herry-Daddee have the film folks depict even one or two good things about my parenting devotion? For examples, my 1½ hours of daily dedication with the mother’s personal mentoring throughout all of my graduate school program and the writing of the PhD dissertation to all three of the Truemaier Boys’ learning piano by way of the Suzuki Method of instruction with its purposefully intensive parental involvement? … Teacher-Daddee having spent exactly zero minutes of keyboard involvement! Ever! And of my becoming myself a certified safe Iowa hunter educator because Jesse and Zane so loved to hunt and the woods and the waters?––as did their Grandpa AmTaham and I! … Teacher-Daddee having spent exactly zero minutes of safety mentoring with the hunting sports! Ever! And speaking of AmTaham and Mehitable, would we even view how, before the child could on the very morning of my father’s death go home to mourn his––and my––loss, Legion True, the DEhuman child, had had to––first––visit the Storm County Courthouse to, there, literally beg before daJudge, High Courtier Butcher himself, for maternal grandchildren Mirzah, Jesse and Zane to even “be allowed” to come home to Iowa in order to serve as AmTaham True’s pallbearers at his funeral? Of how Mother-in-Law Mehitable, cowed and browbeaten and herself utterly mother-fucked by Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, after the rites surrounding AmTaham’s death concluded, had forced onto an airplane a vomiting, 15-year-old Zane along with his two littler and so frightened brothers and coerced her three grandsons to travel alone like this, through two more flight changes, all the way back to the Grubtrop, West Virginia father’s?! Over and above any repeated pleadings which I, the Boys’ mama, had besought her!
While the idea of and certainly the main motive behind this made-for-television movie was most definitely to wrest vengeance out upon me, it was also to knock together, to conjure up and to churn out for the three of them … even more money. Even more than the mere … $child support$ … already “legally” thwacked out of the Witch. Perhaps Jesse’s queried contractual segment about the “ … plus 5 percent …” of something meant that Edinsmaier, McLive and Scheisser would each share in not only the flat, lump-sum fee of $100,000.00 paid out to them from the film’s producers but also in their aprovechar-taking of another 5 percent more of whatever profits could be seized and absconded with by the movie’s promoters from off of the sales of this “documentary” to individual distributors and broadcasters or to various other television stations, fathers’ rights organizations and, as well, to the whole of “the Custody Industry” including seminars and workshops at continuing education credits’ conferences for attorneys, social workers, guardians ad litem, custody evaluators … ad nauseum!
I certainly did not know if … but would any of us all know from its depictions … … if Herry Edinsmaier, when he finally realized the movie was not going to materialize at all, that is, when he, at last, knew that a signed contract for the production of his “documentary” was not going to happen, … if this contrariness of mine, if my defiance in not complying with Herry yet one more time again! in mightily, yet one more time again, my pissing off daMan! … if this impugned … specifically me. Did this realization of the Daddee’s, thus, cause daMan’s clearly explicit pronouncement to all three of the Truemaier Boys that their having no future monies available to them for each of their respective college educations was because I, Legion True, DEhuman, had refused to sign … I had refused to sign off on and, thus, to permit the proceeding with Herry’s movie-making deal … its filming, its televising and the subsequent sales off of it?! Because, … according to Jesse and to Zane, that, indeed, is exactly what Herry the Daddee did declare to my Boys!
Profoundly, would the mother-fuckingly incredible TRUTH have been revealed in this “documentary” that inside Trial Three, that is, within Act Three, Part Four of The Opera, … NOT ONE WITNESS, … not even himself, had Dr. Herod Edinsmaier bothered to call to the witness stand!?! And yet the Pillared Doctor had, more than easily, succeeded, in America, in “legally” pilfering away from their actual growth and birthing source, from me that is, every single one of my sons and in squeezing and sucking out from all four of us, then, our very lives’ juices … for most of the two decades through which three of us were … children!
Lastly, while I possess, as its owner and as its primary beneficiary both, a current and active life insurance policy in force on Herod Edinsmaier––and apparently by flaky, fluky chance, snookered it past both him and his highfalutin, grandiloquent Attorney Scheisser at the time of our divorcing in early 1989, which Herry, who, now too, knows of it, soooo loathes that I do enjoy and control,––that is not at all, by far, how it is that I piss him off! What does so piss him off … is that I––finally … finally––I have called him out!
Legion True, DEhuman, has called Herod Edinsmaier, daMan, … to account! How dare I?!
I hold Herod Edinsmaier publicly accountable for all of his fuck.
Right down even to the Doctor’s notion about all of us women upon whom daMan learned his life’s soooo “respectable” skill and lucrative trade: that is, how it was that when Daddee-Herry and his colleagues were still studying to become physicians, to become those alleged pillared persons within their respective communities, they as medical students learned to perform vaginal examinations and he, Herry, outright stated to me, to me his supposéd belovéd, that he wanted to “Drop my pants and fuck ‘em all right there on the spot” but that, because of the physical circumstances, Pillared Daddee could not contrive a “discreet enough” venue for … his sexual addiction. “Discreet enough,” … … Daddee-Herry’s own phrase!
That: my holding the Great and Wonderful Healer Dr. Herod Edinsmaier to accountability … … that is how I, Dr. Legion True, most piss off Herry!
The movie? Why, the movie would have been just a freakin’, crap-shit, hoot-shoot load of fiction!––for sure, I am thinking! Another true … mother-fucking!
[to be continued…]
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dr. Legion True: One Fucked Mother
Dr. Herod (Herry) Edinsmaier: Legion’s husband/Sperm Source [“re: I am snide” backwards]
Jesse Truemaier: Legion’s son
Zane Truemaier: Legion’s son
Mirzah Truemaier: Legion’s son
AmTaham True: Legion’s father [Mahatma backwards]
Mehitable True: Legion’s mother [Me hit-able—i.e. she was abusive]
Ardys and Endys: Legion’s sisters [names backwards]
Sterling: Legion’s brother [her mother’s planned name of next son (who never came)]
Mi Sprision O'Revinnoco: Herry’s sister [misprision: concealing knowledge of treason/O'Revinnoco = O'Connivero backwards]
Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier: Legion’s father-in-law [juggernaut; aut = 0; misein = “to hate (misogyny)”]
Detanimod Edinsmaier: Legion’s mother-in-law [dominated backwards]
Ava Saffron True and Zebulon True: respectively, Legion's paternal grandmother and her husband, Legion's paternal grandfather
Rowland and Wyman Natures: respectively, Legion's most favored uncle and most favored male first cousin
Fannie Issicran McLive: fawning enabler of ex [narcissi(st) and Mc(Evil) backwards]
Mary Jane: daughter of Fannie Issicran McLive; stepsister of Zane, Jesse, and Mirzah
Legion’s Friends: Margaret, Mona, Yanira, Stormy, Lynda, László, Jane, Kincaid, Joseph, Sheryl, Abraham (Quaker elder), Frieda, Teri Lynn
Legion’s Best Friends: Ms Grace and Dr Lionel Portia and Rachel
Wende: = Legion's friend after divorce [committed suicide due to Custody Crisis]
Cyan Song Goodwater: boys’ art teacher
Jim Cornball: Herry’s acquaintance from AA and realtor
Loser Lorn: Insurance agent referred by Cornball
Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor: 1st Family Court judge
Judge Harley Butcher: 2nd Family Court judge
Judge Barry Crowrook: Appellate Court judge
Judge Pansy Shawshank: Appellate Court judge
Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor: District Court judge on first two trials
Judge Allen Donnellson: Chief, Appellate Court for second and third trials' appeals
Judge Harley Butcher: District Court judge for third trial
Jazzy Jinx: Legion’s first Family Court lawyer
Carlotta Klutz: Legion’s second Family Court attorney
Shindy Scheisser: Herry’s lawyer [shindy = noisy; scheisser = German for shithead]
Li Zhang: Herry’s Aussie affair
Dr Freddie Goldstein & Ella: Herry’s colleague and wife
Mick: = Herry's acquaintance from high school; best man [not in Herry’s life after that as he had no true friends]
Varry Wussamai: Herry's AA sponsor (not a real friend) [I am a wuss backwards]
David Humes: nursing student; classmate of Legion's, y1968 - y1971, New York City
Edmund Silver: Legion's boyfriend pre-Herry
Braemore St: where Legion and her family lived, y1983 - y1986
Havencourt condominium: Legion's Ames apartment; after separation
Zephyr: tabby cat of Zane's, Mirzah's, Jesse's [pronounced “Zay – fear”]
Rex: Jesse’s pet Eastern Florida Kingsnake, female
Lady: Zane's pet Zebra Finch, female
Madonna: realtor
Larry Brouhaha: court-mandated marriage counselor
Dr. Shark: Herry’s residency supervisor who fired him
Carrie Canard: twice judge-mandated custody evaluator
Ms Tsianina Snowball: Legion's friend who instructs her in re The Look
Fairvale, Montclank & Grubtrop: WV cities Herry moved boys to
Author: Dr. Blue, aka Ofherod, BSN, DVM, PhD = Commander Edinsmaier's Handmaid (Commander reiamsnidE's Handmaid)