Today I want to tell you all about the last time I talked to The Prince. Now I’m not saying that he isn’t still lurking around, he is! But I’m talking about the last actual conversation we had, when I knew for certain it was time to quit.

It was a Friday night, Bubble couldn’t hang out so I was bored and alone with my son. He being a teenager, spent his time in his bedroom, playing video games with friends and wanting nothing to do with me.

I decided to spend my evening drinking alone. I want you to know, that up until The Prince got out of the pen, I had quit drinking for the most part. After all, I spent the majority of my weekends waiting in line to visit him down at the jail.

Once he came to stay with me, we drank every single night. He had been gone two weeks at this point. Even though I had grown as bored of him as he was of me, I was finally starting to miss my drinking buddy.

After I was a good bottle and half of cheap champagne in, I decided to give ole Princy Poo a call.

“Hello?” he answered, after my third attempt.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m busy. What do you want?”

“Let’s hang out!” I said.

“No.”

“Oh come on! I’ll be there in twenty minutes, I’m calling an Uber.”

“No. I don’t want to see you,” he said.

“Why not? I’m bored! Let’s hang out.”

“I’m busy.” he said again. Then he hung up on me.

I was not in the frame of mind to take “no” for an answer. So I called him back. He didn’t pick up. I decided to keep calling. I’m pretty sure I called about Thirty Times.

When that didn’t work, I went into my son’s room and tried to borrow his Phone. “Franklin! I need your phone!”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to call The Prince, he won’t answer on mine.”

“I’m in the middle of a game!” he whined.

“Just let me see it for a minute! I’ll give it right back!”

“But I’m in a battle, I’ll die!”

“It will take one minute!” I shouted, grabbing it out of his hand.

Franklin was pissed, he had been super obsessed with his games since the whole lockdown. My snatching his phone set him off, and he started to throw a tantrum.

The Prince picked up after two rings. “It’s me! I’m coming over! I’m getting in the Uber now!” I warned, before handing the phone back to my son.

I walked into my room and noticed an incoming call. It was from my ex girlfriend, Vivian. “Hey bitch!” I answered. “What are you doing?”

“Hey girl! Just hanging out, how about you?”

“I’m gonna go visit The Prince!“

“Eww! Why? He’s fucking psycho, girl. You need to stay away from him. He’s a crazy ass Muslim. He’ll blow your shit up!”

“He’s not that kind of Muslim, stop!”

“Whatever, those guys are all the same. You can do so much better. Seriously Asterisk, don’t go over there.” Her voice softened to a whine, “Stay here and talk to me. I miss you.”

“Aww… I miss you too! Okay.”

So instead of going over to see The Prince, I had a drunk video call with my ex. We talked until I passed out.

The next day, I was hungover as hell and Franklin was still mad that I had ruined his battle. I spent the day in bed nursing a hangover. Around 8:00 pm that evening I received a call from His Majesty.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Hello?” he slurred. I could already tell that he was drunk.

“What’s up?”

“I’m calling you… to ask you… why you make your son cry?”

“What are you taking about?”

“Last night, you called me from Franklin’s phone, I spoke to him after and he said you made him cry.”

“I don’t know, I was drunk. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit! What kind of mother makes their son cry?”

I didn’t respond.

“I want you to know I have ZERO respect for you. None. I used to respect you but not anymore.”

I remained silent.

“You called me thirty times. I have the record. Thirty times! You say you want to come here, but I didn’t want to see you.”

“I know, I’m really sorry. I drank too much.” I said.

“You can come here now. I will show you what I really am!”

“No, I can’t. I’m in bed. I don’t feel good and I have work in the morning.”

“You don’t play games with me Asterisk! I’m serious. You have no idea what I can do!”

At this point in the conversation, as I had done a few times prior, I set my phone to speaker mode and turned on my laptop. I had a gut feeling that this was something I might need to record.

“You think ‘The Prince’ is a nice guy, you think you can play me. No!”

“I don’t want to play games with you.”

“What’s that? What did you say?” he began laughing. “You lost… You don’t know me. I’m not like other men, I’m a savage. I’m not from America, I’m African! You don’t know what it’s like where I come from. In my country we don’t play games. You know what? You know what I will do? I’ll fucking kill you. I… will… kill… you.” he chuckled.

I was still searching for the microphone button on my computer.

“No, you know what? I won’t kill you. Not right away. I will come over to your house and I will bash your car in. Then I will kill everyone you care about, everyone you love. I’ll make you suffer.”

His laughing grew more sinister.

“How long will it take you? Ten minutes? No, fifteen minutes?” he asked.

“How long will it take me to do what?”

“Pffft, don’t play games with me. How long to get an Uber? You’ll be here in twenty minutes?”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight, I’m in bed.”

“What?” he asked.

“I’m in bed, I’m hungover and depressed.”

“Don’t play games with me! You know what? You are nothing… nothing. You are not smart, you are not great. No. All those feeling I had for you before, they are gone. Done! Now I see who you really are. You make your son cry! That disgusts me. You are low, at the bottom. You are nothing. You are not even beautiful… You lost.”

My computer was finally recording.

“So you will not come?” he asked.

“No.”

“Pffft… yeah…” his laughing grew distant until he finally hung up.

I didn’t talk to him again after that. I don’t even want to think about what he had planned for me that night, but I know it couldn’t have been good.

A month later he sent me a text that just said, “Hello.” I ignored it. A few weeks after that he started stalking my Facebook page with a fake account. I knew it was him, not just by the way he spoke and the emojis he used, but he also picked the name of a girl from his home country. Creepy right? I wonder who she is.

One of his comments read, “I’m masturbating to your loneliness.” Once I found them, I immediately blocked the page. A few days later I sent him an email:

I would like to tell you all that this is the end of the story, but it is not.

Soooo… if anything happens to me, you know who did it. Well, either him or my old roommate… She’s still around too!

Je sais ce que tu fais.

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