This is based on George Andersons ground-breaking story "February Sucks". I think it touched a nerve with every insecure, middle aged husband who read it. My understanding is that this story is open to everyone on the community -- If I am wrong then please accept my apologies. I used UK English spelling.
My version starts just after the confrontation with the "friends". There is no sex in this story.
"I turned on my heal and walked out of the club"
Looking back, I must have had a little breakdown. I don't know how I got my car; I don't remember the drive -- the next thing I remember is my mom opening the door of my boyhood home.
"Jim, what the hell are you doing here? Its Ten o'clock at night" then she looked into my face.
"Oh my god -- what's happened, come in and tell your old mom." She led me into the house, then I just put my head on her shoulder and wept my heart out. Mom made comforting noises, while slowly (between the sobs) drawing the story out of me. It took several telling's before she would even begin to believe what Linda had done.
I allowed myself to be led upstairs to my old bedroom and mom helped me get ready for bed, she even tucked me in. I guess I collapsed because the next thing I remembered was being woken up by a loud engine and banging of doors. My phone said it was 1:00am, looking out of the window I saw my neighbour across the road stagger drunkenly out of his F250, fiddle with his house keys and finally disappear indoors. I could plainly see that he had left the keys in the door.
'I should really go and get those keys for him' I thought. I knew my mom always put on the house alarm and it would go off if I opened the front door; I didn't want to bother with it. Besides, mom never knew about my secret exit. Reverting to my teenage years, I extracted the secret tin from behind the air vent. The tin contained a window key, a specially shaped piece of metal and a very dried up joint. I unlocked the window and fooled the alarm by slipping the metal over the alarm sensor. A blast of cold air greeted me as I silently opened the window.
Looking down I realised I was in my old pyjamas -- oh well. Slipping on my shoes and a pair of gloves, I climbed out of the window, across the small eave and slipped (literally -- it was icy) down the trellis. Using my phone as a torch, I made my way to the door, god it was cold. I extracted the keys, fully intending to post them through the letter box. Suddenly I looked at my phone and a though hit me; 'Find my Phone'. I could use 'Find my phone' to locate Linda!
I immediately started the app and there it was, the location of her phone.
A new resolve overtook me, pulling on the hoodie that I found on the passenger seat, I started the F250 threw it into reverse and set off to find her. A forty-five-minute drive later (fifteen minutes down a narrow private road) and I was stopped outside a very sturdy, very closed gate through a very high wall -- now what?
I noticed a track off to the left, going round the perimeter. Throwing the F250 in 4WD, I set off. Some way down the track, I came to a small pedestrian gate. Stopping the truck, I checked it and found it locked. A length of rope in the truck bed gave me an idea. It only took moments to tie the rope through the bars of the gate and hook it to the truck. I had hoped I would pull the whole gate off the wall, like on the movies; instead, the lock just gave out in a quite disappointing way.
Checking my phone again, 'yep, this was the place'; I walked through the gate and down a short path. This led to the back door to the garage which was to the left of the mansion. Maybe being in the middle of nowhere security was lax, maybe I was just lucky; but the garage door was open. In the darkness I could make out the low sleek shapes of several sports cars. Shining my phone around, I saw a door was marked "Security Office".
'Oh Shit, security!' panicking I pushed open the door and rushed in, only to find it empty. The room was lit by a bank of four monitors showing the gate, the front of the house, the back of the house and a bedroom. No prizes for guessing which bedroom, there must have been some sort of infra-red lighting, because I could clearly see my beloved ex-wife cuddled up to Arsehole; they were asleep.
On the desk was a camera control box and next to it was a box of DVDs.
The wall on the right held the fire panel and below that, a big red valve marked "Fire Main" and clipped to the wall, a big red fire axe and some flares. An idea started to form in my mind, checking the main garage I found a jerry can that sloshed. The contents smelled right, gasoline. Taking a risk, I hit the button to open the garage front door. Panicking when the light came on, I quickly grabbed the fire axe and smashed the globe. Checking the security cameras, they both continued to doze.
First I shut off the fire main stopcock; then I splashed the gas over the cars in the garage laying a trail to the Ferrari parked at the front of the house. Cutting through the soft-top with the fire axe, I liberally dosed it all over.
Since I didn't want to leave a recording, I grabbed the camera control box and the box of DVD's and ran them to the F250. Shivering with cold I pulled the hood tight around my head.
Not knowing who was in the house, and not wanting to commit murder, I switched the alarm panel to "Test" -- a loud hooting alarm started.
I ran to the Ferrari and tossed the flare into it. The flames immediately engulfed it with a loud "whoump" sound. Watching the flames follow the trail and take hold in the garage was extremely satisfying.
My plan had been to sucker punch arsehole as he rushed out of the house, then maybe kick him in the groin. You must believe me when I tell you that I never intended what followed.
Unbeknown to me, Linda had been awoken by the garage door opening. (allegedly) coming to her senses and (allegedly) wracked with guilt she had grabbed a robe, dug her phone out of her purse and rushed downstairs. Desperate to get away, but with no car, she had rung Dee, giving the GPS location and begging Dee to come and collect her.
That's how she happened to be at the front door of the house when the Ferrari burst into flames. She must have seen an axe wielding maniac silhouetted against the flames and in a fit of righteous indignation decided to take me on.
I discovered all this when a half-naked Linda grabbed the fire axe and tried to wrestle it from me. We struggled for a moment, then she pulled it out of my hand. The heavy axe swung backwards just as a naked arsehole rushed out of the house. The beak of the fire axe embedded itself in his right knee, severing the Patella and Cruciate ligaments and destroying the meniscus -- oops!
Arsehole collapse backwards, smacking his head on a step and mercifully knocking himself unconscious. Trying to help, I pulled the axe out of his knee and handed it to Linda who seemed to be going into shock. Linda dropped the axe and it fell between his legs.
'Wow, lucky it didn't hit anything.' I thought, then looking down, I saw the blood shining in the floodlights. Pulling the axe away, I was relieved to see that it had not severed any arteries; however, it had obliquely cut through his cock about 2 inches from the base. For some reason I grabbed it; just as full-blown panic set in.
