Yesterday I tied my nasty wife to a chair and left her there.
You may think that cruel but if you listen up, you'll understand.
Bernice and I have been fighting for years. Been trying to get divorced but she won't let me.
(Turns out she has a lot of money that she's been hiding.)
We go to a judge every month. She tries to shoot me down for little things.
I forget to take out the trash, "that's a man's role" she says.
I don't read books to our baby daughter. Well who reads these days?
It's all in the tone. Mean. A nasal rasping voice that will cut through any fog.
A few years ago she disappears for 3 weeks. Blackout from her friends, relatives.
One day I come home I get wacked with the butt of my deer rifle.
I fall onto the floor, spit out a tooth and say,
"Honey, not in front of Baby Bess!"
She smiles, snickers or skittles and says it the bear trap next time.
Bess is now 7. She's getting nasty too. Rough like her mom.
When she smiles her eyes come together. Like a devil.
She'll throw rocks at me and her friends. She throws food
and she jumps on my stomach for fun. Only she weighs like a 10 year old
and she flattens my intestines like a tape worm.
Bernice is an Instagram addict. I went christmas shopping with her last year.
A guy in the mall falls on top of the escalator and has a cardiac arrest. I got
to help him and she pushes me away. "gotta film this! she barks.
And so she goes ahead filming and for her defence she wasn't the only one,
a crowd starts filming cause they all want a maximum number of hits on their
Instagram. I finally push her aside to do CPR but it's too late: he's dead.
She does the same thing to our neighbour. The guy takes a shower and you
can see his butt on the opaque glass. Bernice does her filming then sends it
to his wife with some lewd comment. "See that?" she says to me, beaming,
"that'll teach him!"
To the judge she holds herself nice and upright and says that I can't even shoot
deer with my deer riffle. Says I spend the day basket weaving and she brings
her mother in as a witness to prove that I'm the one who is hiding the money.
"My husband is a filthy rich basket case" she says, her
eyes full of compassion and tearing in front of the judge.
I look down at my feet, my stomach, full of acid, cramps another notch.