The Psycho Ex-Girlfriend ChroniclesFifth Entry

<---Fouth Entry Probably one of the most insane stories I have about this girl is the one I am about to tell. The majority of our fights came when she was leaving my place to go home. She lacked the little clock in her head that tells her when its time to leave someone’s home, so I always had to make that executive decision for her. She looked at it as me getting rid of her; I viewed it as me getting some fucking sleep. On this occasion, she really didn’t want to go. When I told her that we should call it a night, she gave me the usual ‘fine, if I have to’ look and proceeded to leave. I walked her out to her car and sent her on her way. I didn’t realize that her car never moved. Fifteen minutes later my phone rang. I was already in bed, under the covers, and in my sweet spot when I reached to answer it. In my head I was thinking about why I even try to sleep after she leaves. It never happens the way I want it to. Needless to say, it was her. She goes on with the same rant about how I don’t care about her and how I make no sacrifices for her and how I always kick her out after we have sex (which is purely a matter of bad timing). Whatever. Me- Please go home. Her- I’m coming up. Me- Don’t come up. Her- Why? Is your other girlfriend coming or something? Me- You can’t be serious. Please go home. Her- I’m at your door and I will ring the doorbell if you don’t come open the door (it was midnight). Me- Don’t fucking ring the bell. Give me a minute. I opened the door to see the devil, herself, looking directly into my soul. She was hungry, and my soul smelled like fresh brownies. I knew she was plenty pissed because whenever she got super angry, she'd insert ‘the fuck’ in every sentence. Example: I’m pissed the fuck off! What the fuck were you thinking? Get the fuck off of me! Where the fuck have you been? Why the fuck do you care? How the fuck am I supposed to bend that way? When I told her she couldn’t come in, she let ‘the fucks’ loose. How my neighbors didn't hear, I'll never know. Maybe they did but they were too frightened to come out. Then she did what could possibly be the most appalling thing I’d seen her (or anyone else for that matter) ever do. She looked directly into my eyes with the fury of a dozen Pro-Life protesters and started beating herself in the head with her keys. Not by holding the key chain, no, but by swinging the keys like a lasso using the lariat she used to hang them around her neck. She swung them around fast enough to make a faint whistling noise as they cut through the air, while also making what sounded like an evil version of Jingle Bells as they bounced off her fucking skull. Her face was expressionless and her eyes did not blink. She felt no pain. All of this coming from a four foot, eleven inches, ninety-seven pound girl. I couldn’t do anything but stare in shock and horror. When I finally took hold of the moment, I lounged at her to make her stop and ushered her inside. Somehow I calmed her down. It would have been a lot easier if we had a 'safe' word to use. Of course my first reaction was to sympathize, so I got her some aspirin and a wet towel for her bleeding head. She left about an hour and a half later. Wow. Fucking Psycho. We dated for another year and a half after that. What does that say about me? Me- Are you okay? Her- My head hurts. Me- No shit? Sixth Entry --->