Knock! Knock! Motherfucker.

Shouting came from over there.
There was analogous to the story.
Shouting was from near my parent's room.
For fuck's sake my mom was ranting and almost foaming at her mouth.
"You got me this piece of shit phone." she yammered.
Then what was worse was she kept on yelling like a hot freight train that doesn't know how to shut  up.
I wanted to just say shut the fuck up but it is rude.
Plus, given what's going on with the world in Ferguson, ISIS, and some other shit it would really deteriorate my sense of self.
All though, I do always mumble or yell fuck. So there's no love loss there.
Anywho, she's yammering and making a scene and I read the clock and it is 6:15 a.m.
So I am fucking angry.
Then a KNOCK! KNOCK!
I put on some shorts and it is my dad. My mom is still fuming and my Pop's says to get up.
I comply.
My mom is still whimpering and grating her words against my dad and it is a real shit fest.
So, there I stand in my shorts glarry- eyed with the eye crusties. Not sure what to do .
Because I guess I am Atlas and need to carry the burden of being the middle child.
So it turns out that we got new phones. Yeah, that's all good in well. But if you give an elderly person any type of new device the complaints come in tsunami like waves. "Well I don't know how to work this piece of shit." she bellows. Well fuck we can teach you mom. We can.
We are educated in technology. We're like the techno generation.
So therefore we have lots of knowledge of computers and PHONES.
So she's still bitching. We haven't really even been standing there five minutes.
The bitch wave starts up like a mad tyrant. "Well I have clients and this shit is not working. How would you like it if you're dealing with vets and they can't get ahold of you?" she says. It gets better.
I am being blamed for something I have no control over. We just got brand new phones from T-Mobile yesterday. They gave us temporary numbers . I have no control over it. I'm not a psychic and can just will a phone to do whatever it needs to do with a fucking wave of my hand, plus, I can't magically make shit work or in this case her phone. "Calm down you're yelling too much.", says my Dad. I agree.
You diffuse a situation by examining LOGICALLY the facts. Okay, or a better sentence. You can logically diffuse a situation when someone is shouting.
Step 1) Tell them to slow their roll and calm the fuck down.
You can do this with tact.
Step2) Examine the situation presently.
Step3) Don't rinse or repeat. Just try to come to a peaceful solution where zombies head's don't internally combust.
Therefore, I can't control a lot of shit. I ride the wave of life. My mom is the polar opposite she tries to micro manage my family and me like I am a zergling. Like she's the fucking Overmind and we have no hydras. What gives?
We move onwards.
So after about 8 mins I would estimate my mom just bitched her way to a trophy. Plus, now I am fucking so angry for being woken up. I am just like it is way too fucking early to be up. So now my mom is about to go to work whilst still yelling. You can't really calm her down.
Here's the gut punch. When we tell her there's a temporary number she fucking explodes. She's close to a diagonal part of our house. I say diagonal because there's these white French doors that kinda open on a shitty rail system. She's standing right there frothing at the mouth  and proverbially fucking angry as a 'Coon Dog'. That's not meant to be a racist term. That's my disclaimer.
Then I go back to sleep and slam the door. Because if you don't slam the door you don't mean business. I was so goddamn fucking tired. So then I hear her yell through the door "I am going to kick you out of the house for this." -vivaciously and in an agonizing tone. Something akin to a really mad school teacher combining her chalk board fingers with a wretched scream. There's yelling and then there's fucking THAT.
That is no good.
So that's how the morning started.