An Angry Man

Authors note: No pickaxe handles or guatamalen whorehouses in this one. Just some straight up consequences of life choices. The characters are based on actual people and pretty much all of the events have happened to people I know personally. I tried for a wife that wasn't hit by the martian slut ray but the story led me closer to the beam than I would have liked. Let me know what you think.

-Ahaz

*****

Is adultery a capital offense? The rational part of my brain knows that it's not. However if I had my pistol in my hand when I saw my wife and her lover enter the hotel room it very well could have been. Thankfully by the time I got to my truck I had calmed down and only glanced at the center console where I kept it. I have large sums of cash periodically for my work and I keep a .357 in the truck just in case. I have only ever fired it at the gun range, but I like guns and have the right to keep them, so why not?

I called my boss and told him the story, I would be taking the rest of the day off and probably tomorrow. I needed to line up a lawyer and establish a game plan. I withdrew three thousand dollars out of our account and opened a new one in my name only. That still left five thousand dollars in there so we had enough to make this months rent and bills. We only had the one credit card for emergencies so I called and canceled it. We had switched our lease to month to month so there was no house to worry about. No kids either. There was no way I was going to forgive her, especially since I had found out this was the fourth or fifth time. At least it was the fourth time she had charged a room to the credit card. I looked up the account online and saw the charges then saw where she had transferred money from the bank account to cover it. As long as there was nothing owed on the card at the end of the billing cycle, we wouldn't get a paper statement. The emails about the account went to her so if I hadn't taken the time to check, I would never have known.

It's funny, if there hadn't been a glitch that stopped my debit card from working yesterday, I would never have checked our balance. If I hadn't checked our balance I would have never seen the credit card payment. If I hadn't seen the credit card payment I wouldn't have checked the charges yesterday. If I hadn't checked the charges I wouldn't have known to be at the hotel today. If I hadn't been at the hotel today I wouldn't be divorcing my cheating slut wife.

I know I should have said something last night but my mind was still trying to process the fact that she could be stepping out. Now I had proof and it was time to take action. I checked online and found a lawyer that said they specialized in divorces. I told them the story and was pleasantly surprised. We had only been married for four years so I could probably get away with minimal spousal support. She had been working for six months at a job that paid well which was why we went month to month on the lease. We wanted to buy a house. At least I thought we did. Who knew what was going through her head any more.

After I got done with all of that I went home and grabbed a beer. Then it finally hit me. I loved the dumb bitch. Why would she do this to me? What did I do wrong? I realized that if I sat around I would just wallow in self pity so I grabbed some tape and started walking through the house putting tape on things I wanted. Basically my game systems, the TV, and the exercise equipment. Other than that everything was tied to a memory we shared and it was just too painful. As I was wandering around I started dreaming up creative ways to get back at them. When I got to leaving her trapped in a snowbound cabin with no food or clothes and breaking his legs in the wilderness so the scavengers would get him, I realized I might be going over the top. Especially when I added the thought of giving him a gun with one bullet in it and have it be a dud so when he worked up the courage to shoot himself he heard the click. Yeah I went there. Then I realized that things don't always work out so nice as they do in the stories so I was better off divorcing the cunt and moving on.

I was sad because I thought Gwen was going to be the woman would grow old and have children with. It seems like every memory came rushing back. My proposal at the theatre where we met for the first time on a blind date. The three day weekend at Myrtle Beach. Sitting with her when her dad was dying of cancer. The long talk about the decision to move away from our friends so I could take this job. Our wedding night and the proud look on her face when she deepthroated me for the first time. How we cuddled and had a sex marathon for those two days the power went out during a winter storm. All of those memories were now overlaid with the image of her laughing and holding some dickheads hand while they kissed and opened up a hotel room door. My reverie was broken by the sound of the door opening.

"Julian, what are you doing home?" she asked as she ran up to me to give me a hug.

I put the sofa between us and just stared at her. There was nothing indicating that she had been fucking someone else today but that wasn't surprising.

"Cut the shit Gwen, I know you have been fucking one of your guys from work so I would suggest you start going through and putting a tag on what you want. You will be served with divorce papers on Wednesday."

Her reaction was unexpected. She almost looked relieved.

"I am very sorry Julian, I should have never gone behind your back. You deserved the truth." she said quietly.

"Sorry you cheated or sorry you got caught?" I asked bitterly.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was unhappy. I'm sorry that I was too chickenshit to ask for a divorce a couple months ago when I decided I wanted out. You deserved so much more from me," she said with her eyes filling up with tears.

"You have been fucking him for a couple months?" I couldn't help that my voice got louder. I was so angry and hurt.

"No, we've only hooked up five times over the last couple weeks," she sighed. "But I have wanted out of the marriage for the last six months."

"What? Why?" I asked. My world seemed to have shifted five degrees off center.

"Because I'm 25 years old and I don't want to have to come home at 10 o'clock if I'm having fun with my friends. I don't want to have to worry about having too much to drink and possibly offending your boss at a Christmas party. If I see a pair of shoes I don't need and can't afford, I want to be able to buy them without feeling like I'm taking money out of our future kids college fund," she responded, with some heat.

"So you decide you want to stop being an adult. You want to go back to your carefree early twenties. Well you got it. I took half of our savings. I'm removing my name off the lease tomorrow. I took an extra seventy five bucks out to pay for a STD test. We fucked last Sunday and I am sure you had been with him before that. I can't count on you to care enough about me to have him wear a condom. You want your freedom, you got it! Enjoy life with your new friends and your new job." As much as I was trying to remain calm, I couldn't help but raise my voice in anger.

"Yes, Jules, when we got married I was barely able to drink legally. There's a lot of life out there that we both missed. At the time I thought I was okay with it, now I'm not so sure. Going out with Jeremy and his friends reminded me of the fun times we used have, just hanging out and being a little young and stupid." she said rather defensively.

"What part of missing out on life involves you cheating on me? What part of missing out on life makes it okay for you to fuck someone else while still married? I thought that if nothing else we are still friends, friends don't betray each other like that. You really are a piece of work you know that? I thought my mom and sister were just bad examples but apparently all women are nothing but sluts!" Okay, I had to stop yelling.

Gwen winced a bit as I brought up my mom and sister. Mom's cheating had driven my father out the door and into a bottle. Two years after he left I found him dead of alcohol poisoning when I went over to his place for the weekend. Mom was only pissed that the child support checks stopped coming. What little Dad had left went to my sister and me which my mom took and spent on a new set of tits and a tummy tuck. She put my sister Adrian on birth control and told her that if she was going to get knocked up, to get pregnant by a rich kid so she would be set. Adrian managed to seduce Tony Winger, the son of Arnold Winger who owned Winger Auto Sales. When she was eighteen she turned up pregnant. Tony heard rumors and had her get a DNA test done while the baby was still in the womb. It turns out he wasn't the father and he dumped her. She went to a "back alley" abortion clinic to "take care of the problem" and caught a blood infection, she went into septic shock two days afterward and died at home. Mom tried to sue the doctor but apparently my sister had signed forms that would have made it really expensive to pursue legal recourse. When she found out it would cost upwards of 10 grand to attempt to get any money, mom dropped the whole thing. The next year was a living hell for me as I tried to finish school with good enough grades to maybe get a partial scholarship and deal with the men mom would bring home. I saw the college dorms as a life saver. No way it could be worse than home.

A month into college life and I got a visit from two local cops. They pulled me out of class and told me that my mother had been killed in a car accident. Apparently she and her boss were having a mid afternoon tryst and they were confronted by his angry, gun wielding wife. They hopped in his car and sped away right into the grill of a garbage truck. It seems the cocaine and booze in his system didn't allow for the greatest control of a vehicle.

I managed to get most of my money back from the college for the semester as I had to withdraw to take care of matters. As trashed as it was, we did have a paid for house. Mom had a car and surprisingly she had a 401k that had almost a hundred thousand in it. There was a savings account with forty three hundred bucks in it. I also found a stash of DVD's and cash. The DVD's were labeled "retirement" Against my better judgement I popped one in and saw what was obviously a hidden recording of my mom screwing some guy. The cash was almost nine thousand dollars. I was totally not surprised. I spent the month cleaning and doing paperwork. I had a couple guys come by to "pay their respects". I didn't watch the videos but I assumed at least some of them were the guys on the tape. I sold the house, put the cash in the bank and went back to the winter semester. I lived as frugal as I could and did nothing but school work. I had a few girls that would call me up when they wanted to get laid and I was more than happy to park my dick in a warm slit for a little bit. I was not impressed with the female of our species. They were good for having fun with but letting them get to close was just a pain in the ass.

I graduated in the top 25 of my class and found work as a manager for a up and coming construction company. I went out to the bar with a bunch of the guys and that led to a bunch of girls coming out with us. My attitude had mellowed to the point that I thought, just maybe there was a decent woman out there. I thought I had hit the jackpot when I met Gwen on a blind date. I was a couple years older than her but she seemed pretty cool. The ink was still wet on her accounting degree but she had found a decent job working for the state police in forensics. I thought I had the life. Turns out all women are scum.

Gwen was beginning to really tear up now. That pissed me right off. She decides she wants out of our marriage, stabs me in the back, fucks some other guy, and SHE feels bad? FUCK no! I literally felt something rip inside me. I just suddenly didn't care.

"You will be served on Wednesday at noon at work. I have marked what I want to take from the apartment. The items will be gone tomorrow. You keep your car and I will keep mine. My name comes off the lease at the end of this month. After the first of the month it is yours alone if you want it. I took half the money in the account. I want the credit card paid off and cancelled. I don't plan on this getting nasty mainly because I don't want to see your lying, skanky, whoring ass again."

I took a deep breath. I had to calm down as I was starting to repeat myself.

"Tell your boy toy to stay away from me. I know he was just taking pussy that was easily given up so I am not gonna go hunting him. If he crosses my path though, I will put him down. Not because you are worth my time. Just because a real man doesn't go hunting after married pussy. Someone needs to teach him a lesson and if he crosses my path I will gladly show him. If it's not me then it will be the husband of the next married slut he decides to bang."

She winced at my repeated use of the word slut. Too fuckin bad. I grabbed the bags I had packed and brushed by her.

"I am picking up the stuff that has tape on it tomorrow while you are at work. If you want to fight it, take the tape off and I will list it in the divorce documents for the judge to let him decide." I said as I walked out the door.

She didn't fight the divorce at all. When Mom died I put all the money from the sale of her house and other goods into a trust. My accountant told me that as long as the trust held all my money, it wouldn't count toward my net worth for student aid. She also suggested I invest the money so it wasn't just sitting there. Turns out she was wrong. Money held in trust does count toward financial aid, at least the way she set mine up it did. She was out of business after a year. Yet another example of women being dumb cunts. Since I had all the trust monies tied up in investments it was quicker to take some student loans. Thanks to her inept device I ended up with about thirteen grand of student debt. Thankfully my company had a program that paid five thousand dollars a year toward student loans. I was going to be okay.

The net effect of that disastrous relationship with my accountant was positive overall though. While the trust didn't shield me from from student aid, it did shield me from the divorce since I had never gotten around to naming Gwen as a trustee. There was about six hundred thousand in there that the bitch couldn't touch.

I moved out of the apartment and found a small furnished loft close to work. I wanted nothing to do with the bitch so I left it all to my lawyer. There was some discussion over my 401k and to make things easier and shorter I ended up cutting her a check for fifteen thousand and walked away. The reason she didn't ask for any support became apparent after all the dust had settled. The dumb bitch had got herself knocked up and was planning a summer wedding. I guess all that whining about not wanting to be tied down was just bullshit.

For the next year I threw myself into my job and was rewarded with a new position. I was now the Improvement Assessment Coordinator for the entire company. We had bought out a number of smaller companies and it was my job to make them more efficient. I was sent all over the country and tasked to bring the new companies in line. My nickname was the "Hatchet Man", mainly because one of the first things I would do is cut the dead weight. Most of these companies had employees who had been there 10 or 15 years and were not pulling their weight. I would give them one chance to get it in gear and if they didn't, they were gone. I found that generally the employees who had been there less than ten years were willing to make the changes needed to keep their jobs. I knew that I didn't target the more senior employees, but ended up with a reputation for coming in and cutting senior staff. I was considered a pariah by both management and hourly staff and I didn't give a shit. I wasn't there to make friends I was there to make the company money. The bills weren't gonna get paid by rainbows and butterflies.

As for my love life, the first year I was turned off by women. I hadn't found a single woman who was worth a shit in my life so why bother trying to wine and dine them? The second year after my divorce I felt the need to get laid. I had a lot of money and was traveling quite a bit so I figured I would help support the world's oldest profession. What was that quote? You don't pay a whore for sex, you pay her to leave. That summed my life up perfectly. I would cruise into town, do my business and on the last day I would either pick up a higher end call girl or use a discreet escort service. The sex was usually top notch and we both knew where the other stood. I should have been doing this all along, screw that relationship shit.

I had no clue what the bitch I had married was up to nor did I really care. I guess this is where I should say I went to counseling and worked through my issues with Gwen and women in general. Nope. I think counseling is great for those that can use it but I really had no desire to change. I was getting a variety of no strings attached pussy. I was keeping most of my paycheck and had found something I really loved, restoring old motorcycles.

I had long since moved an hour away and bought a nice big house on the outskirts of a small town. It had a huge pole building and in it was an old 1969 Triumph Bonneville. I had stipulated that the garage be cleaned out prior to close but apparently the old owner was too busy to do it so according to the language of the purchase agreement I owned everything that was in the pole building at the time of possession. The old bike was partially torn apart but I fell in love with the lines. I have always been good with my hands so I bought an expensive set of MAC tools and went to work. I had the bike 75% restored when the owner tried to come and get it from me. We went around and around but the basic fact was that he gave it up by not getting it out and it was mine. I gave him 500 bucks to sign the title over to me. It was easier than fighting it out in court. After that was done I came across a 1963 BSA Gold Star Spitfire that needed some attention. I was hooked. I wasn't a professional by any means but I was getting a lot better. I was supposed to sell a bike and then buy a new project bike but that didn't seem to happen. I ended up with a nice collection of restored vintage motorcycles.

So here I was divorced for seven years, plenty of money in the bank, a job I was good at, a rewarding hobby, and all the pussy I could pay for. I was pretty damn content. Right up until I came home with a new throttle cable for my latest purchase and found an old beat up Toyota sedan sitting in my driveway. As I pulled around it I saw a woman get out of the car. I hopped out and was pretty much face to face with my ex whore.

"Jules, if there was any way to avoid it you would have never seen me again. I did you wrong and while I feel terrible about it I can't go back and change it, as much as I would like to. But this isn't for me, it's for my daughter, OUR daughter," she said in a rush. She handed me a photo of a cute little girl with a big smile who was missing a couple of baby teeth. It looked like the photo was taken at a mall or something. She was adorable.

"She's a cutie. Shame her mom is such a slut. Now what are you trying pull with saying she is mine? Hell as much as you were fucking around towards the end of our marriage it could be anybody. I heard the fifth fleet was in town around that time," I replied.

She sighed.

"Julian, take all the shots you want at me. I know I screwed up royally. I was a real shitty person and deserve anything you want to say me. But OUR daughter has leukemia and needs a bone marrow donor. I am not being overly dramatic when I say that she will die without it. Every other option has been exhausted. She is on a donor list but it could take years and she only has months. As for how I know she is yours, Jeremy is sterile and you were the only person I had sex with other than him. Go ahead and hate me, most of the time I hate myself. If you want to drag me inside and take a few swings at me, go for it. But please, please, please go get yourself tested to see if you match." she was crying by this point. I was unimpressed.