“It’s the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)” plays on tape, but I’m good as deaf and can’t think of so much as the band’s name right now. This is the end, and I know it, yet I don’t feel fine at all. Why, you may ask, so let me just tell you what’s wrong: my bitch of a wife Claire cheats on me, but I can’t prove it! I’m dead sure she’s been ploughed lots of times by some schmuck I used to call my best friend, whose name I dare not say now; not out of fear, but for the love of Christ, I’d blow chunks if I did!
When did it all start? Who cares when! When will it end, though? It will end now, or soon as she steps through that door and sets foot in our house, my house, the house I once bought with my own green and fixed up with my own hands, sweat, and blood; the whole run down length and height and width of it. But I won’t show her grace and blow the three of us up with some sort of home made pipe bomb, nor will I use my guns or knives on her, no! I need to end her with my own bare hands. Choke her long as need be, till she takes her last breath, makes her last twitch, and is no more. I may in fact still choke her corpse, who knows, I’m so wrought up right now!
And what I’ll do to that schmuck who bangs my wife, you may want to know. That wretch of a man named Schwartz, who will make me lose my lunch if I speak his name one more time! Well, I’ll tie him up and force him to watch while I dice her, yeah! But first, I’ll strip off the lids of both his eyes, so he has to look, then use his own car keys to saw off his dick, make him gulp it down, and club him to death with it if he barfs it back up (though it is so small it would not so much as bruise him)! Or make him scrunch it up first like some dry New World quail tough as an old boot, then feed him his balls as a tart with whipped cream on top, then my own boots and fists for a change! Feed him so hard I’ll break my toes and sprain my wrists! Been there, done that! To hell with that, I’ll tie him to a rack and wrap his strechted form ’round a tread mill so I can run and stomp on him, squelch his bones till I get shin splints! My pain will be worth it!
Hush, I hear Claire’s high heeled shoes on the porch! She came back! I shake and sweat, squat by the coat rack, fists clenched by my side. How will I do her in? There, her key in my door lock. So shut up now, let’s not make her bolt!
“Where have you been‽” I roar soon as I see her. I give her a great fright, good start, then whooosh, I zoom ’cross the room but have to freeze in my tracks ’cause she ain’t on her own: she’s had the cheek to bring that schmuck Schwartz with her! I could throw up on the spot!
“Please, don’t yell at her,” he greets me way too calm, which in fact boils my blood more.
“Don’t you dare tell me how I yell at my wife, you dense prick!” I yell at him; and at Claire I yell, “Why the hell did you bring him with? How could you want to hurt me so?”
“He’s here as my guard,” she says. “’Cause to be frank, I’m scared of you, Clark.”
I get that, so I take a deep breath and lean back, still tense but at least I’m cool with a talk.
“What is wrong with you, Clark?” the prick asks. “Why are you in such a rage? What set you off?”
“Fuck you, Schwartz, and get the hell out of my house or I’ll shoot you like the dog you are!”
“If I know one thing for sure,” he goes on, “I see Claire was right, you may as well be made of nuts. She was right to bring me here so I could hold you back if worse came to worst. You’re a threat to her life.”
“No, he ain’t,” Claire chimes in so I can’t. “His bark is way worse than his bite. I’ve known this dog for a long time, he won’t lay a paw on me. Just bark, bark, bark like the lone pooch he is.”
Oh, how much I could kill her right now, there on the spot! It’s just so damn cute of her to call me a mutt in spite of my thick neck, strong arms, and huge fists. To find my own voice, I take a glass jar of schmaltz and fling it on the floor in front of us. It bursts! Just to make them get how much I mean it. They both flinch but stand their ground.
“This darn klatsch will end now!” I scream. “Out with you, Schwartz! And you, my soon to be ex wife, can go pack your things! I won’t let you splay your legs for the guy and stay here on my dime, too! Go to the Deuce, you two!”
They don’t budge, just stand there like deer in the head lights, so I grab a jar full of borscht to toss, though the schmuck puts out his hand and stalls me, “Is that it? You think I had sex with your wife?”
“I may lack the proof, but yeah, that’s just what I think! So, fess up, this is your last chance!”
“We did no such things,” he swears, “nor would Claire cheat on you. She loves you, you know.”
“Well, is that so?” I ask.
“You know it is the truth.”
“I want her to say it.”
My wife sighs and looks at all the schmaltz on the ground, then straight at me. Through me. As a sign of good will, I set down the whole jar of borscht. Claire speaks, “It may be hard at times, but Clark, I love you and just you. I sure hate your fits of rage, but I love your strengths, your sleights, and all your quirks. I love that you write me songs, pluck your lute for me, and tuck me in at night, that you make love like a pro yet hear my plaints and give sound tips as well, that you ain’t no sloth but buy food, hoard no schlock, bring out the trash, clean the house, and most of all care ’bout me.”
“What a nice thing to say,” Schwartz adds.
I can’t help but stare in awe. It’s like my wife cast her slough, shed her snake skin, just to come out a nice and fair wisp. The spouse I want, the spouse I need, the spouse I got. She’s the one. I can see that now.
But just to be sure I point at the schmuck and ask her, “Then why do you see this guy all the time?”
“Ain’t it clear? ’Cause he’s your best friend and knows you more than any man I know. Since I could not deal with your wrath no more, I had to ask him for help. And if he could not help us, then no one could.”
“That’s right,” Schwartz says. “As your best friend, I know all your flaws and sins. So just take a chill pill and give Claire all the space she needs. Man, it feels dumb to tell you this, but you ought to trust her more.”
“No, I’m the one who feels dumb,” I weep, tears in my eyes; and to my wife I say, “I love you, too, with all my heart. Please don’t give me up ’cause I’m such a bad man when it comes to trust and such. It’s just like you say, I’m but a dog, and soon as you leave the house I freak out and break stuff. Yet I swear I’ll make it up to you, Claire. May I start with a long hug?”
She gives me a wry smile, but I can see the love burns hot in her eyes, so I step on the schmaltz shards with my boots, crunch them and don’t feel a thing while I walk. Then I take her and hold her tight, breathe in her warm girl scents, sense her soft breasts through our clothes, then get some strands of hair stuck in my mouth as I work my way down to smooch and pet her, too. Just like in the old days when we were young and wild.
“Uh, I’ll go and get some schnapps,” Schwartz says, not there with us, and off he goes. Claire and I French kiss and make out a bit. Ah, it seems like I have smoothed out the folds ’tween us one more time. But not quite yet, so I say, “I should clean up this mess now or we might slip and skid on it in the dark.”
“Shut the fuck up, Clark, and schlepp me up the stairs to tuck me in.”
She grabs me by the dick and pulls me up the stairs while I feel her up all the way. I knead her boobs and can’t wait to nail her to the bed.
“Ain’t you scared I could fuck your brains out?” I ask in jest.
“Long as you thrust through that hole where I like it the most?”
“I know you like it in your ear—”
Hush! I hear steps on the front porch; such light steps, tiny feet, flat heels. I slide my left hand off my moist cock and zip my pants, must have jerked off while I thought of Claire and how we make up and out. The steps wake me up from a wild, wet dream. I still lean on the coat rack near the door, all lights in the house dimmed or turned off, still mad as a hound on the trail of blood. She’s still gone. She may be out for a lay with that schmuck right now. Or has she come back for me?
“Who goes there‽” I roar through the closed front door. The sound of steps on the porch comes to a pause.
“It’s me, Claire. I’m here to fetch the last of my things. So please don’t freak out, let’s just keep it cool.”
“I’ll play nice for now!” I shout. While she sticks her key in the lock, I pull the door to let her in. She strides past me as if I were not home at all. Now I see her stand there: it sure as hell is her. I eye her up and down, her long, blonde hair, her lean frame with the wide bust and the wasp waist. Pale as a corpse, which means she still dreads me, but I don’t know why. Though it’s good to see her, I can’t tell her that just yet. First, we need to make up and out, then I’ll try and be her pooch.
“I had hoped you were not home,” Claire greets me.
“I did not mean to scare you.”
“By the way, I wear a bug,” she lies, “and there’s a whole bunch of cops out there, poised to storm in and aid me, or shoot you in the head if you so much as look at me wrong, not to say touch me.”
“Yeah, right, ’cause I’m such a big fish of a perp and con man. You could not snitch on me; I know this for a fact.”
“I mean it. They gave me a code word, too, and trust me, I will say it.”
“Well, let’s say you did tell on me, the cops would not care ’cause I did not a thing wrong.”
“But you did! You stalked me! And you tried to rape me!”
“Don’t you dare shit me, you dumb whore! You’re still my wife and wives are meant to love! Meant to live with their man, so move the fuck back in, or do I need to make you‽”
“I ain’t here to talk to you. I’m here to get my stuff. Get out of my way, Clark!”
She takes a step, I must stop her, I grab her by the neck, toss her to the floor. Weak as she is, she needs a man to take care of her. So I throw my whole weight on top of her.
“Prague! Prague, now! Please, help me, Prague—” she squeaks till I pinch off her air, clench both my strong hands ’round her slim throat. In my dreams, she twitched a bit less than this. She fights me with all her strength, for naught. I love it so much I could cry!
“I wish it would not end this way and so soon, but I need to end you now, Claire! Bye, my love, I’ll miss you so! And hold the fuck still or you’ll make it worse!”
Boooom! goes the door, in sprawl the cops: black masks, frag vests, big guns, small pricks. Their sweat reeks of fear and hate. Cop one kicks me straight in the face and off my spouse, breaks my nose so I see stars. Cop two holds me down, cops three and four twist my arms, cop five slaps cuffs on my wrists, cop six reads me my rights, cop one cuts him off, “You have the right to shut the fuck up! What you say can and will be used to fuck you in court! You’re so fucked up you have the right to talk to a shrink who fucks with your head! If you can’t pay him you’re screwed! Fuck you, you messed up perp!”
Cop five does mouth to mouth on my banged up spouse, so I fight the other pigs for a while ’cause I should be the one to kiss her back to life! I knock down a stool with a jar of yeast on it, make a huge mess, and catch some blows to my ribs and spine. I can be a tough son of a bitch if I don’t get what I want. But to tell you the truth, I’m at ease that they stopped me in time. I need this wrath of mine to last me for life, but how could I do it with my poor Claire gone? My sole love, dead as a dried dog’s dong? I sure as hell have no clue.
They’ll haul me off to jail and wring the brown shit out of me, play some good cop, bad cop, then bust me up some more. They won’t get much out of me, though. I don’t squeal. I’m not as dense as you might guess. In fact, I’m cold as ice when it comes to mind games and such. They’ll have to lock me up in some deep, dank vault, make me brood o’er what I did wrong. Not a thing in the world, I swear, I have a clean slate. Then I’ll let drop in court how much those twerps botched it when they read me my rights, big shame, so I’ll walk free and sue the green shit out of them.
Back home at last, I swear I’ll cook up some lewd trap to catch Claire all on her own and end her once and for all. Bind her with hemp ropes, hang her from a hook to punch, fuck, flay, and burn her, slice off both her teats and all her lips, rape her ten times while I’m at it, then maim her some more, bash in her skull with a gold brick, and feast on her heart and brain just to try it out. Then save what’s left of her in glass jars and place them ’round the house to show her off. I may ask a few guests to join me and taste the best parts of her flesh from raw to well done. I’m so glad those pigs stopped me just in time ’cause now I got an oath to live by.
“Thank God, she breathes!” a cop squawks, I forget which one. Some doc feels her up and states the same thing, but with long words, most of which I don’t know. I still lie here on my face in a pool of nose blood, my head stomped back down by a cop’s boot soon as I try to raise it. They go on and on, queue up to check out my wife “for wounds”, and shove a bunch of meds down her throat. They keep us in the same room still, who knows why. The press may be right out my door, I’m in for some fame, got not a thing to lose but my dear spouse and my free dome.
I hear her cough and wheeze in pain, “No, let me go look at him.”
“You sure, Miss?” asks one of the cops.
“Please, it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need your hands on me.”
“As you wish, though it ain’t safe. This one’s a real nut job.”
“I know, I’m his soon to be ex wife.”
“Just keep some space, eh?”
Then some odd sounds pierce my ear drums: a swish, a scroop, two clicks. In a flash, the cop who had parked his boot in my face shouts, “Guys, I need some help here! She took my piece!”
“Damn it, don’t let her! Stop her!”
“Miss, please drop the gun!”
“No, I need to do this,” Claire gasps, “or he’ll come back for me. I know he’ll find a way. It’s how he is.”
“Drop it now!”
Bang! Bang! Bang! A strong punch to my head. I can feel the lead bounce back and forth in my thick skull and tear my brain to shreds. I got a few thoughts left, I think, now to use them well. But it all goes so fast ’tween my wrecked lobes, it seeps out, the chunks and gore, my life and all. Fade to black. This is the end of the ride. I was shot and killed by my own wife. Found my fate and some sense in it, too.
Dear God, what a twist. If you’re up there, please show grace and save my soul. I can’t go to hell, it’s so hot down there and I’m way too cool.
And Claire, you mad cunt! You’ll be the one locked up for life, not me. I’m kind of proud of you, my love.
And Clark, you old twat, shut the fuck up now and go get some rest in peace. It’s the end of the world as I know it and I don’t feel a thing.
*
This text consists solely of monosyllabic words, meaning words with only one syllable. Finding such words consistently through a script is almost impossible without incorporating a significant number of rules. Additionally, there are too many of these words to use them all effectively. Therefore, I wrote this text largely without the use of algorithms. I would like to thank Abram Dorrough for being my trusted editor.
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