Here is another quick and dirty for the BTB crowd. I tried to throw a little humor in it just to lighten it up a bit.
There is mention of one of my favorite StangStar06 stories. For those who read his stories, you will know what I am referring to. I beg his forgiveness if he takes offense, but thanks for a wonderful set up.
No persons or animals were harmed in the making of this story. (see disclaimer below)
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My wife Debbie is cheating on me. Like right now she is cheating on me. No, not with my best friend or her first true love from high school. It was Hans Jorgensen from across the street. With a name like that you immediately picture a thirty something, six foot plus tall, blond haired prick with muscles that would've put Lou Ferrigno to shame.
In reality what you have is a sixty year old AARP enrollee that's maybe five foot four inches tall, three hundred pound asthmatic that would be lucky to see his dick with a mirror on the floor. So why is my wife screwing him? At first I thought it was some previously unknown daddy issues. No, she was spreading her legs because he never had a Sweet Valentine.
Well boo fucking hoo! We all have had to live with disappointment in our lives. I hated that the Indians imploded in the World Series. I lost money on those guys dammit. That's five dollars I'll never get back! But I didn't lose my moral compass because of it. Besides, there's always the Browns, right? RIGHT?
Sorry, I left for a second there but I'm back now.
Debbie has always been one for helping the helpless. Stray animals and Jehovah's Witnesses were her favorite. She always gave a kind word and a bowl of water to those who were in need. It did my heart good to see the animals leave with a smile on their face and those fucking Jehovah's Witnesses on their knees drinking from a bowl on a hot summer day.
But her fucking our neighbor because he never had a Valentine? That's just too fucking much.
I'm not too much on the forgive and forget bullshit unless it's for minor stuff. If your dog shits in my yard I won't go Rambo on you. I will calmly walk over to your residence drop my pants and cleanse my colon on your front lawn with out any harsh words or threats. By the time I get back to my place, you and your dog are forgiven and forgotten.
If someone soils my marriage, now that's a different thing entirely.
My wife knows my take on fidelity. We discussed it at length before we married. You cheat, it's over. But I guess the doctor pushed the needle in too deep during her last Botox injection and it fucked up her memory. Not my fault. She cheats, she pays. And so will the fat bastard.
But how will I get my revenge? The thought of calling in my former Navy Seal buddies in for some suburban action won't work. I wasn't a Seal. Or maybe I'll hire a mob hit man with my spare cash. No, that won't work either. The mortgage, car and credit card payments and Debbie took all my cash.
The only thing left for us poor people is good old fashion violence. But I don't do well in confined spaces surrounded by barbed wire and cell mates who grew up fucking pigs for Saturday night fun. There had to be a better way. Again, how? What kind of deviousness can I use to demonstrate my displeasure in the actions of the two immoral fornicators and keep my freedom?
It has to be decided quickly and it has to be done before the fuckers are done fucking. Besides, there was a neighborhood party I had to go to over at the Peterman's around 7 pm. I didn't want to go but had no choice. This year I agreed to go as Cupid. The kids love it. It was a tradition started years ago. Some father or neighborhood friend dresses up as Cupid and gives the kids a laugh. Yeah I know what your thinking. A fucking pansy wearing a diaper with strapped on Tinkerbell wings carrying a miniature bow and arrow.