Oh Darling
Predator Press
[Mr Insanity]
I haven't been able to write very frequently lately; my job has me traveling a lot.
So a six hour delay had me arriving from Quebec at the Dash Cunning International Airport at 9:00 pm.
Then my car broke down.
I ended up dragging myself and my luggage in the house at 2:00 am; LOBO and Phil, still house-hunting since the fire, were sleeping soundly on the couch.
The last thing I remember was collapsing on my bed face-first, and dreaming fitfully of inane conversations in Spanish.
Then my cell rang.
I answered groggily to a hideous, blood-curdling screech I haven't heard since I was married.
Oddly enough, it was my ex wife; she neglected to fax an annual document to the courthouse, and this caused a delay in my alimony payments to her.
I mean who the fuck pays alimony these days?
***
Now when you get divorced, doesn't that mean explicitly that you don't have to wake up like this anymore? Isn’t it tacitly implied? I paid a lot of money for that divorce. That was a damn fine divorce I might add: if I was going to get fucked, I was going to score some dinner and dancing first.
We even threw a party.
Yet here she is.
If I listen too long, I decide, she will make me gay.
I hung up, and grabbed my bags.
Fuck this. I'm going back to Canada.
Do I have to pay alimony in Canada?
As I struggled my bags though the hall the phone rang again, and LOBO sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Hey," he yawns cheerily.
I toss my ringing phone into his lap.
"It's for you," I says, leaving.
Divorce, my friends, is a complete rip-off.
Go with murder.
[Mr Insanity]
I haven't been able to write very frequently lately; my job has me traveling a lot.
So a six hour delay had me arriving from Quebec at the Dash Cunning International Airport at 9:00 pm.
Then my car broke down.
I ended up dragging myself and my luggage in the house at 2:00 am; LOBO and Phil, still house-hunting since the fire, were sleeping soundly on the couch.
The last thing I remember was collapsing on my bed face-first, and dreaming fitfully of inane conversations in Spanish.
Then my cell rang.
I answered groggily to a hideous, blood-curdling screech I haven't heard since I was married.
Oddly enough, it was my ex wife; she neglected to fax an annual document to the courthouse, and this caused a delay in my alimony payments to her.
I mean who the fuck pays alimony these days?
Now when you get divorced, doesn't that mean explicitly that you don't have to wake up like this anymore? Isn’t it tacitly implied? I paid a lot of money for that divorce. That was a damn fine divorce I might add: if I was going to get fucked, I was going to score some dinner and dancing first.
We even threw a party.
Yet here she is.
If I listen too long, I decide, she will make me gay.
I hung up, and grabbed my bags.
Fuck this. I'm going back to Canada.
Do I have to pay alimony in Canada?
As I struggled my bags though the hall the phone rang again, and LOBO sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Hey," he yawns cheerily.
I toss my ringing phone into his lap.
"It's for you," I says, leaving.
Divorce, my friends, is a complete rip-off.
Go with murder.
Comments
*sigh*