Insurrection 1

I would like to thank my team. They are: Girlinthemoon, Norafares, Hal, Pixel the Cat and GeorgeAnderson. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. SBrooks103x also gives me a pre-post read. I thank you all. Thanks to the folks at Sports Illustrated.

Author's note: I'm not an attorney. I found out as much as I could, but I'm not a professional researcher, I'm a teacher. If the law is different and you lawyers out there know better, I'm sure you'll let me know. I've never been divorced, so I know only what I can find out from others who have, and the internet. This is my world, and I get to make the laws. Hope you enjoy. Randi.

*****

"In time, every successful revolution puts on the robes of the tyrant it has deposed." Barbara Tuchman said that. I suspect she's correct. I never dreamed I was a tyrant, but I suppose the villains in life seldom realize their roles. They always excuse their actions, as if, somehow, their villainy were acceptable because they are the ones doing it. Standards of things, like honesty, fair play, selflessness, which they demand from others, they have no regard for in themselves. If you lie to them, treat them unfairly, show no regard for them, they complain bitterly, but let the shoe be on the other foot and it's just peachy. I wasn't always a villain. In fact, few people of my acquaintance seemed to realize that I was a villain. My wife and my two daughters were the ones who cast me in that role.

Somehow, in an Orwellian twist, objecting to lying and cheating became tyrannical. After the insurrection, my wife became the tyrant.

My wife was Amber. She was a tall dark complected beauty. I wasn't not sure of her ancestry. She, and her mother, claimed Native American bloodlines, but everyone does. She has more of a Mediterranean look to me. My name is Kabrick North. I have no idea where my parents found that name, or what my ancestry was, either. Everyone calls me Kab. My two daughters are Dacy and Tobe. Dacy was fifteen and Tobe was thirteen.

The first sign of my new role came as we lay in bed on a Saturday night. Amber had just finished fucking me into exhaustion. I was spooning her, holding one big brown breast cupped in the palm of my hand and her fantastic ass pushed into my softening cock. She turned her head to look at me and I drowned in her huge brown eyes. "Kab," she said. "The girls at work asked me go to a lodge with them next weekend and scrapbook. Would you mind?"

Actually, I did mind, but not very much. I had tickets to a baseball game and I had intended to take her and the girls. I hadn't mentioned anything to them, yet. It was just spring training, so it wasn't a big deal. "No, I know you like that kind of thing," I said. "Go and have a good time. You've been wanting to catch up on getting our pictures organized."

Not a villain, right? This was the beginning of my ascent to the tyrant's throne, although I had no idea at the time. She went, and came back very happy. She had made three new albums of our family pictures, all decorated up with things she liked. She was very proud of them. I admired them for the requisite time and forgot about it. The next month, she went again. After six months, it became twice a month and this escalated over a year's time to once a week. None of this was a problem until Bianca, one of Amber's friends from work, saw me in the grocery store. She asked me why I never came with Amber.

"Well, I have very little interest in scrapbooking," I told her. "Anyway, I've never been invited."

She looked at me funny. "We only scrapbook once a month," she said. "The rest of the time we go out for drinks and dancing. Jeremy always comes with me. You should come. It'd be fun." Jeremy was her husband.

Who knew? I had never heard one word about drinks and dancing. As far as I knew, it was all about making pretty books. I hadn't checked to see what Amber's scrapbooks were looking like, because as I said, I had very little interest in scrapbooks, none, in fact. We obviously needed to have a talk.

I went straight home. Amber was out and Dacy wanted to talk to me. Her boyfriend had asked her to go to a concert. She went places with him when they were part of a group. I had major qualms about a fifteen-year-old girl going to a concert alone with her seventeen-year-old boyfriend. I told her she could go if other friends went with them. My rule was that she couldn't date alone until she was old enough to drive. I explained this for the thousandth time and she went off in a huff. "God, Daddy, you're such a freaking tyrant," she said in a parting shot. I was adapting to my new role. This was the first time I was made aware of my lofty position. She didn't speak to me for three days.

When Amber got home, I cornered her. "I saw Bianca at the grocery store and she asked me if I was coming to your next drinks and dancing, slash, scrapbooking event," I said.

Amber's face flushed and she immediately took a defensive attitude. "I've been meaning to ask you," she said.

"Ah, I guess it just slipped your mind," I said. "It must have been difficult to remember to mention that scrapbooking had morphed into drinking and dancing. I completely understand. They are so similar in nature that you just forgot. Well, no problem, we husbands are rarely interested in their wives drinking and dancing, anyway. Is there anything else you've been meaning to tell me?"

"There's no need for the sarcasm," she snapped back. "I don't have to tell you what I'm doing every minute of the day."

"No, I suppose you're right," I said. "Typically, though, people seem to think it's important for their spouse to know where they are, just in case of emergencies, you know. Jeremy seems to know Bianca is dancing and drinking. She even told me he goes with her. Can you imagine that? I can't imagine any man wanting to be with his wife while she was drinking and dancing, can you?"

She flushed even more. "You know you don't care anything about dancing," she said. "This is just a girl thing."

"Jeremy's a girl?" I asked. "I had no idea. He doesn't set my gaydar off at all. It must be getting defective. When did he switch teams?"

"Don't be stupid," she said. "He isn't gay. He just likes to be there to make sure Bianca doesn't get in over her head."

"Strange man," I said. "Do any other husbands share his paranoia?"

"None of the other husbands know what we do," she said.

"So Bianca is the only honest woman in the group?" I asked. "Nice set of friends you have there, Amber."

"You don't know them, and I don't appreciate you making snide remarks about my friends," she said. "None of the other husbands try to be a dictator like you. No one is being dishonest."

"You mean, other than you," I said. "Maybe the others aren't married."

"How can you accuse me of being dishonest?" she was ready to explode. "I never lied about anything!"

"No, I suppose you're right," I said. "I apologize. What I meant to say was that she's the only one in the group that isn't a deceitful bitch."

Amber looked at me as if I'd slapped her and stormed off upstairs. Dinner was a little strained that evening. With two of them not speaking to me, it was very awkward. I can do awkward. I went and watched a basketball game before going upstairs. Amber was already in bed and the bedroom door was locked. I got the little round key down off the doorjamb and unlocked it, replaced the key and went in. She was lying on the bed and she raised her head when I opened the door.

"Get out," she said. "You're sleeping on the couch."

I ignored her and got clean underwear out of my drawer. "I'm not sleeping with you," she said. "It's going to be a long time before you get back in here."

I ignored her and got in the shower. When I was through, I went and got in bed. She sat up. "I told you you're not sleeping here!" she snarled. "Get out."

"I don't need your permission to sleep in my own bed," I told her. "If you don't like it, you go sleep on the couch." I think she was shocked. I've heard men talk about their wives making them sleep on the couch. I always thought it was a metaphor. Apparently, she'd heard the same stories and believed them. Maybe she'd heard different stories where men actually go sleep on the couch. Fortunately, I outweighed her by seventy pounds, I was also four inches taller, and she would find me tough to drag. I guess she thought she could just lock me out of my own bedroom and I'd be as meek as a lamb. Well, this lamb was becoming a lion. That's what we tyrants do. We refuse to cooperate in our own deposition. She was spitting mad.

She got up, grabbed her pillow and rummaged around in the chest for a blanket. She was gone in a few minutes and I got a good night's sleep. When I went to work the next morning, she was up and looking tired. I guess the couch wasn't all that good a bed. I never liked the thing, even as a place to sit. It had a hundred stupid pillows on it and it was very uncomfortable as a chair, much less a bed. When I came home, I went upstairs to change and discovered that everything I owned was missing. I looked around and discovered that she had cleaned out her scrap booking supplies and that room had become a bedroom. All my things were in there. There was a day-bed in there and I guess she thought I was going to sleep on it. I wasn't. I moved my things back into my bedroom.

Amber came up and saw me carrying suits down the hall to our bedroom. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I cleaned out the spare room. You're sleeping in there until you apologize to me."

"No, I'm not," I told her. "Let's see you make me sleep in there. If anyone's moving in there, it's going to be you. Do you want a divorce, Amber? Is that what you're angling for here?"

She looked shocked. "What are you talking about? You were rude to me. You called me a lying bitch!"

"Deceitful bitch," I said. "It was deceitful bitch. Accuracy is important. Technically, you weren't a lying bitch, just a deceitful one."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Kab?" she said. "I'm the mother of your children and your wife. You can't talk to me like that!"

"Why not?" I asked.

She didn't know what to say for a minute. I'm sure this wasn't going according to plan. I was supposed to come pleading and crawling back, totally ignoring the fact that she was a deceitful bitch. Her mouth opened and closed a few times.

"You've never spoken to me like that in the whole 17 years we've been married."

"You were never a deceitful bitch before," I pointed out. "Well, not that I know of. Maybe you were and I just didn't know. So, do you want a divorce?"

"No, I don't," she said. "I want my husband to realize that he can't speak to me like I'm some disobedient schoolgirl. I'm an adult woman and you need to speak to me with respect."

"Respect is earned," I told her. "Deceitful bitches don't get any respect. Since you don't see fit to explain to me how scrap booking became drinking and dancing, how you allowed it to slip your mind that you should mention this to me and you don't appear to be at all embarrassed by your early onset Alzheimer's, it seems clear to me that you do want a divorce. Then, you won't have to worry about these lapses of memory anymore."

"You're blowing this way out of proportion," she said. Apparently, she believed that a good offense was the best defense, because she went on the attack. "Why did you tell Dacy that she couldn't go to the concert?"

"I didn't tell her that," I said. "Remember, accuracy is important. Words mean things, Amber."

"Well, what did you say?" she asked.

"I told her she couldn't go alone with her boyfriend," I said. "If they are going with a group of friends, I'm fine with it. She doesn't date alone until she can drive. You helped me decide that rule."

"Well, I changed my mind. I told her she could go," she said.

"Okay, I'll speak to an attorney Monday," I said. I turned away and went down to the den. She followed me, yelling the whole time, but I wasn't listening. I turned on the game and ignored her. She eventually gave up and went somewhere. At this point, I really didn't give a damn where.

Dacy came in after a bit and gave me a smug little smirk. I would have to do something about that. Evidently, Tobe had been regaled with tales of my tyranny and she wasn't speaking to me, either. That suited my mood just fine. I went fishing Saturday, and Sunday I went to a boat show. Amber had seemingly accepted her defeat and moved into the spare bedroom herself. I slept well, enjoying the room in the bed to sprawl out wherever I wanted.

I took the day off on Monday and visited my attorney. You can do things like that when you're a tyrant and own the company. I had him begin divorce proceedings and he promised to have the papers served at our house on the following Monday. I then got on Ticketmaster and bought a ticket to the concert where Dacy was staging her insurrection. I made the usual arrangements to separate our finances and had a pretty good week. Tobe had a band concert on Friday. She still wasn't speaking to me so I went to a movie I had been wanting to see. I went to bed around midnight and Amber still wasn't home. The girls shut themselves in their rooms and I played video games and then went to bed.

The next evening, Dacy got ready and left for the concert, and I left ten minutes later. I located her and her boyfriend in the auditorium. I had checked out her ticket number and got a seat directly behind them. The music was as bad as you can imagine, but I had my phone and earphones. Dacy was shocked when she saw me, but I didn't say anything. I could tell she was fuming, and I really enjoyed it. They got up and moved at one point and I ambled along, just staying in eyeshot. I don't think they enjoyed the concert nearly as much as they thought they would.

I went home after the concert, and Sunday morning there were three very angry females waiting in ambush in the kitchen when I came downstairs. Luckily, I didn't have to go through the kitchen. I just went through the laundry room and into the garage. I had a tee time, and I just walked by their ambush and played golf. I went to a tool sale afterward and picked up an impact wrench I'd been wanting. When I got home, they heard me come in, but before the ambush could be reassembled, I was in the bedroom with the door locked and a chair under the knob in case they knew about the key thing.

They beat on the door and yelled, but I had my handy headphones. Best investment I ever made. I left for work the next morning before they were up. When I got home at 4:30, the ambushers were out in full force. I got a Mountain Dew and went into the den. They swirled around like gnats and I made no attempt to avoid them. I was quite the villain. I had spoiled Dacy's date, failed to attend Tobe's concert and had seriously hurt Amber's feelings. I felt pretty good. My reign as tyrant was taking off like a rocket.

Just before five, the doorbell rang and I answered it. It was the process server. He looked like a refugee from the Russian mafia. His head was shaved and he had tattoos on his neck, disappearing into the nice suit he was wearing. He looked fierce. I let him in and he did his thing. He appeared to be all out of bubble gum and stuck to kicking ass. The three girls didn't say a word while he was there except for Amber identifying herself.

After he left there was silence for a moment. Amber opened the envelope and her face went white when she saw what was inside. She collapsed on the uncomfortable couch and I sat in my comfortable recliner, drinking my Mountain Dew.

"Mom, are you okay?" Tobe asked her. "Who was that guy? What did he give you?"

Amber looked at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. "You're divorcing me?" she gasped.

"Well, there is the little drinking and dancing thing," I said. "Then there's the moving my things into the spare bedroom, the couch thing and the letting Dacy go to the concert thing, too. I know where you were Friday night, Amber. You three have had a pretty good life up until now. All I ever asked in return was to be loved and respected. I've given you nearly everything you've ever asked for. In spite of that, there's been this little insurrection going on around here. I love all three of you, but you seem determined to cast me in the role of the villain. I've accepted your assessment and I'm just acting according to the script. Dacy, I'm wondering how you're going to get that Camaro you wanted when you turn sixteen. Tobe, I'm pretty sure band camp is out from now on. I don't think your mother can afford those things on her office manager salary. Amber, good luck with the mortgage. Oh, yeah, the car payments, the utilities, the club memberships and your health insurance, too. I'll be moving out this week."

They stared at me like I was insane. "Where are you going?" Amber croaked out.

"Mexico," I said. "I think I can live like a king down there. I'll have maids and servants and a driver. Maybe I'll find a beautiful dusky maiden with a couple of kids who will think I'm just great. I've got it all planned out. It's going to be great. I hope you'll all find someone that makes you happy. Dacy seems to be pretty high on that pimply faced asshat with whom she went to the concert. Maybe Tobe will do just fine and become a famous musician without all those camps and lessons. Just think, Amber. You can go out drinking and dancing all the time. I'm sure you'll enjoy not being burdened by having to account for where you are every minute of the day. Have nice lives."

I went up and got the suitcases I had packed and carried them to the truck. I had to make three trips and I guess they were all still in shock, because they didn't move and I didn't hear them say a word. I went and checked into my room at the Hampton, changed and went down to the pool. I swam laps until I was exhausted, sat in the hot tub until I was somewhat revived and went back to my room.

My phone was making its alert sound and I checked. I had three missed calls, all from Amber. She had left one voice mail. I listened to it. "Kabrick, we need to talk," she said. "The girls and I want you to come home. Give us a chance to talk to you. You said you loved us. If that's still true, give us a chance. Come home and we'll work things out."

Ah, now she wanted to talk. She might even be willing to explain her deceitful bitchiness. I was going to do it, but it would be on my terms. I sent her a text. "Those eggs are scrambled. I was there for the last 17 years. You had a chance to talk. You moved into the spare bedroom, after moving my things in there. This time, you don't have to bother moving them. I took care of that."

The phone rang immediately. I didn't answer it and I got three texts five minutes later. There was one from each of them. Dacy and Tobe just asked me to please not do this and to give them a chance to talk to me. Amber just repeated her "We can work this out, please come home" mantra.

I sent her another text and told her that I'd meet them for breakfast at Iggy's at eight on Saturday. I knew that would bug them. They all like to sleep until about noon on Saturday. I was a very good tyrant. I discovered I enjoyed inventing petty irritations for my minions. They'd certainly invented enough for me over the last few weeks.

I was very busy at work that week. It takes a lot of maneuvering to sell a business. There were a million papers to sign and meetings to attend. I got it done. Talbot Manufacturing had been making me offers for years. I got the papers all signed and the money was deposited in my account in Boca del Rio. Yes, I really was going to Mexico. I spoke fluent Spanish, and I had some expatriate friends who had been telling me how great it was there. I was a wealthy man and Amber wasn't going to get any of it without my permission. That's the way good tyrants operate.