Sonofabitch SONOFABITCH sonsonsonofabitch. Long, loud, under the breath, whenever, wherever appropriate or inappropriate.
This is my father's favourite word. I tried to stay on his good side growing up because he's such a moody one. Learned a good word from Dina - mercurial. That's what he is man. He doesn't talk very much but when he does it's not usually worth listening to. Man alright I know I'm not supposed to talk about my old man like that but jesus he's a mess.
My mother never swears. Like ever. She doesn't even say "christ" or "oh for god's sake". She's not super religious or anything but she just never swears. I feel bad for talking smack in front of her, even though everyone my age does it - the "F" word isn't really a bad word like when we were little, right, if we heard it I thought my mom would faint of a heart attack.
So one day the dude will be totally happy and singing in the shower and the next minute he's raging about something or other, never knew half the time what he was on about anyway. We'd tried to tune him out, but he'd work himself up into a hate ball and then it would always come blame someone - usually my older brother during his fight fire with fire years when him and my dad would go at it like no one's business while mom stood there and wrung her hands back and forth.
Or the neighbor. God man this guy George was such a hick, I think he came from somewhere in the NWT where they don't electricity or something because man that guy was whacked out. My father hated this guy- like hated him for real. Everything that happened in the neighborhood got blamed on this guy. I never talked to him, dad forbade it even though bro used to make a point to go chat up George just to dig at my dad.
Dad would come in raging about sonofabitch this and sonofabitch that and we'd roll our eyes and tune him until the wind subsided. One day he was steaming and called George a sonofabitch to his face and oooh man the dude got like totally peeved off and stared at my father and said "What did you call me?"
My dad starts hollering, "You heard me you sonofabitch!"
George glares at him and turns and walks in his house and I kid you not the crazy mofo comes out with a gun. Some big shotgun thing. So MY dad goes in and gets his hunting rifle, and these two idiots stand there on their porches holding their guns and staring each other down. (They're not pointing them at each other, but they are carrying them. You gotta remember this is like suburban Toronto, not hicksville Innuit country or downtown Detroit.)
My mother doesn't even get mad she just picks up the phone and walks outside and calls the police. My dad screams "Sonofabitch!" and storms inside, grabs his gear and goes camping for a few days to calm down.
George stood there not moving until my mother looked at him and said something like "Oh grow up and get back inside to your family where you belong, not out here carrying on."
She walks by me and mutters under her breath "both of them are sonsofbitches sometimes."
The only time I ever remember her swearing.