It has been over a year. For all of the people out there that have started following me, I apologize.
Life has happened, and I kind of lost my muse. I will make a point to try to rectify that in the future.
This story has no explicit sex, I could have put some in, but it would not have advanced the story, so if that is what you're looking for then you should probably look elsewhere.
There is only a little of the Burn the Bastard, and no real Burn the Bitch. The character cared more for his kids and the affect it would have on them.
If you're still interested in reading this I would appreciate any feedback, both positive and negative. It helps me to strive to be a better writer.
"How's your wife and my kids?"
It was almost unnoticeable, but I noticed. My wife's eyes grew wider for just a second, not even a full second, a split second, and I noticed. I barely chuckled at the joke. My best friend and I had grown up together and we used that line many times.
I think the first time I used it was at Cedar Point, an amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio. I don't know where it came from, I just said it.
We were riding in one of the gondolas that travel high above the park, going from one end to the other and back again. Me and Jeff, my best friend, were alone in one of the cars traveling one way and a family, mom, dad, and 2 kids, were traveling in one going the opposite direction. As we passed by each other, approximately 20 feet apart, I shouted out, "How's your wife and my kids?" They all looked at us and we started cracking up laughing.
That was the start of a running joke with Jeff and I. We used it over and over that day.
When we went back to school in the fall we used it, and got reprimanded for it. I guess, Mr. Tate, the math teacher, didn't find it funny. After a few months the novelty of it wore off and we only used it on rare occasions. Every summer though, when we went back to Cedar Point, it would start up all over again.
You'd think that by the time I was in college I would have put that juvenile joke behind me, but I guess, even at 21, I hadn't really matured. I was out with some college buddies, having a few beers and playing pool, when I saw a guy, maybe 30 years old or so, sitting in a booth. He was conversing with a woman probably less than 25 years old. You could tell it was a first date. I made a tremendous 2 bumper bank shot to win the game and I yelled out, "Yeah boys, that's how it's done." This made the guy look over in my direction. Me, being in a cocky mood, said, "Hey buddy, how's your wife and my kids?"
My friends laughed and I said, "I'm going to hit the head. Rack 'em and I'll be right back."
Looking back now I was kind of a dick when I was that age. I wasn't the only one though, we all thought we were invincible.
As I was standing at the urinal someone came into the bathroom. I don't remember much after that, except the guy that hit me, and slammed my head against the wall, was wearing a blue shirt.
When I hadn't come back from the bathroom for a while one of my buddies came looking for me and found me bloody and unconscious on the bathroom floor. They called an ambulance and I spent the night in the hospital. I told the police and my friends that the only thing I remembered was a blue shirt. There were no cameras so the police had nothing to go on.
I ended up getting stitches to close up a wound that ran from above my left eyebrow to the top of my cheekbone. It was a scar that I will carry with me for the rest of my life, both physically and emotionally.
The hospital kept me overnight just in case of concussion. It made me think about my boisterous cocky behavior. Typically people don't change, except when there is a big event to force the change. Many people get in bar fights and never change, but this one changed me. I became introspective, keeping quiet until I had something worthwhile to say.
That next summer, when I was back from college, my best friend and I met up for a beer. Of course the first thing he noticed was my scar.
"Holy shit, Kurt, what happened?"
"I opened my big fat mouth one too many times." I confessed.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
We sat down in a booth and I told him the whole story.
"So you think it was the guy you said that to? Fuck him if he can't take a joke."
I let it drop. I felt sorry for myself for two reasons. One because I had a scar that I was going to have to live with, the other because I had obviously angered someone so bad that he had to sucker punch me while I was taking a piss. I didn't think of myself as an asshole. I was, for the most part, a happy-go-lucky guy. I guess he saw me as just another punk asshole kid.
As the summer went along Jeff and I hung out, but he kept giving me grief. "Come on man, lighten up. Why can't you just be yourself." The thing is, I was being myself. I just wasn't that same guy with the 'Devil-may-care' attitude. I started looking at the potential consequences of my actions.
Needless to say, even though he was my best friend, we didn't spend as much time together as we used to. This being the last summer before our Senior year, we would probably never spend as much time together in the future. We would both be graduated and on to our careers next summer.
Senior year was my 'buckle down and get serious' year. I started looking at where I wanted to be hired after graduation. I liked living in Carmel, Indiana, my home town. It would be great if I could get a job in Indianapolis. My major was in Chemical Engineering, it just made sense that I look at working at Eli Lilly Pharmaceuticals. Their home office was in Indianapolis. I had to insure that my grades and extra-curricular activities painted me as the best candidate for whatever job would be available.
Looking back, my new introspective attitude helped me to focus on that goal. I was only an okay student, however my buckling down got me a 3.9 grade point average for my last year. I actually graduated Cum Laude. I obtained a job at Eli Lilly. I was on top of the world.
The first couple of years I was nose to the grindstone. I spent many hours learning and practicing all of the ins and outs of the company. By my third year I was a project manager. I felt pretty proud of myself, but I didn't let myself get cocky. Cockiness got me a scarred face. Instead I treated everyone with respect and praised them for their accomplishments. Even when co-workers irritated me (we all have them) I didn't say anything, just kept it to myself.
One day a co-worker Jenny came and sat next to me in the lunchroom. She was on my team. I considered her a friend, just a friend, she was married. I would never do anything with a married woman. My religious Midwestern upbringing kept me from even thinking that way. As we ate we talked, me sparingly. She said, "Kurt, I know someone in Sales and Marketing that thinks you are cute."
I hadn't dated much, especially with co-workers. You know the old saying, 'Don't shit where you eat.' I told her, "Workplace romances are tricky Jenny. If it doesn't work out you still have to see them on occasion. If it does work out you're working at the same place, driving to and from work together. That's a lot of time together. That could get old."
"Oh Kurt, it's just a date. I think you should meet her."
"Who is it?" I questioned.
"Gwen Winters, do you know her?"
"No, but then again I don't really travel in those circles."
"Well, I'm going to introduce you. Are you free Friday night?"
"Hmmm, let me check my social calendar." I tapped the side of my head by my scar. "I don't see anything on my schedule. I think I can do that. Where and when would I meet her?"
"How about 7:00 at Doc B's Restaurant?"
"That sounds good. It's been a while since I've been there."
"I'll be there to introduce you two, then I'll leave. Got to get back to the hubby."
"Jenny, you said she thinks I'm cute. Did she see my scar?"
