Author's notes,
First off, this is not the most original story, as a matter of fact I got the idea from all places, Facebook. In the blurb it is set up as a joke of payback for a newlywed man who refused to help doing some honey-do's around the house. In my mind the full story goes something like this.
Please remember this is a copyrighted work, blah, blah, blah! Like always constructive comments are welcome and please vote.
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Payback
Hello, my name is Jordon Smith, and this is my story.
Since you are reading this, on this site in this section you already know it did not end well. But as the Mantra my father proclaimed, 'if it doesn't kill you, it will only make you stronger'. I will say it sure has made some aspects stronger, but it also has made a lot of things weaker.
Background
I was raised in a lower middle class neighborhood, but was driven to be more, do more and succeed in life. I got a strong work ethic from my father and a strong sense of right and wrong from my mother. When I work, I work hard, when I play, I play hard, and when I rest I rest hard. I have one weakness and that is for standard Football, known to most as soccer. To me it is football so when I say football I mean real football not the other version.
I put myself through college by studying hard, getting good grades to get as many grants as possible and keeping the student loans to a minimum. I worked hard working high paying bitch labor jobs during the summers to keep that gap closed as much as possible.
During my last year of Business School, I met her, the one, and the one woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We will call her Susan Q Rottencrotch, not her real name, but you will get the point by the end of my story. As with the rest of my life, when I love, I love hard, but on the flip side when I do not love... well I think you will get the picture.
I graduated and all that bullshit and got a good job that paid twice what my old man made working his ass off in the trades. Like all new guys, no matter what grades you make or how special you think you are, you start at the bottom and work your way up. This means putting in sixty and seventy hour weeks, working on weekends, doing the bullshit work that the higher-ups no longer have to do. You know, you have to earn your way, there is nothing given to you. I'm okay with this since I knew that one day I would be one of those higher-ups and I would try and remember those lower than me with more compassion than I was shown.
Her
She was smart, sexy and the total package. Yes, she was a bit stuck up, a bit spoiled, and could come off as a bit bossy, bitchy... add you own B-word, but I loved her never the less. For some reason she had this bit of an entitled attitude that caused most of our disagreements. She felt if she wanted it, then it should be hers... now! I said you have to work at it to make it yours, and NO, I will not ask your father for the money and neither will you!
So, after waiting for the first big promotion, with me finally making enough money, she consented to be my wife and the wedding planning started. Lucky for me I missed most of that because there is always a big project that needs working on and dues have to be paid to get the next promotion.
So, after the over the top wedding I never wanted, and a down payment that almost broke my back, to get her in the proper neighborhood she insisted on, and still only being able to afford a 'Mild Fixer', I bought us our home. Yes, I knew it needed work. I had a plan, with my father's help, to have it fixed into a dream home within three years. Complete with a new kitchen, new cabinets, new almost everything. But, it would take time to earn the money and get fixed because I refused to take out any more loans. Until then, we would have to just make due. Remember I am a BUSINESS MAN or person... if you will. I avoided the trades for a very good reason. I wanted not to have to work my fingers and back into early arthritis. I wanted clean smooth hands not broken cracked hands. Yes, I have great respect for those who work the trades, since they do work their asses off every day to make a living. But, I have chosen a different path.
So, now that you have the background or the set up as you will, here is the story.
I had worked twenty seven days straight to have three days off. It was the semi's for football and I organized my time to see as much as I could and still spend some quality time with the wife. That weekend I woke to.
"Honey there is a few things that need attention around the house now that you actually got some time off." She was in her leave me alone robe, and not looking too clever.
"Dear this is the first day off I had all month I am going to relax a bit then we can talk about it." I kissed her, got my coffee and toast, and hit my favorite spot on the couch, hitting the remote to the preprogrammed station that had the first game on. Now, we had only been married about three months by then and only been in the house less than a full month at the time of this little kerfuffle.
I was in a happy semi-doze watching the boys run the ball up and down the field. My team wasn't playing but I wanted to know the standings going into the big game. If you are into the sport you know what I'm talking about, if not, it would take too long to explain.
I guess she didn't like my answer. Because, as soon as there was a bloody commercial, it started.
"Honey, the hall light is not working; can you fix it after the game?" She asked in that sickening sweet voice girls use like we are naught but a little kid needing coaxing. Me, being not in a good mood, with her hovering and pestering on my first day off in a month, I guess I was a bit peckish about the whole thing.
"Do I look like a damn electrician?" I shot back, only wanting a little bit of peace on my day off. This shit could wait. The next break it was...
"Honey, the fridge door is stuck again. Can you fix it after the game?" Like really? The damn thing was a tosser. I had already picked its replacement. It was due for delivery the next week. A brand spanking new one she had been drooling over for months. There was a reason I was putting in all the extra hours.
"Dear, do you see a shirt in my closet that says appliance repairman?" I was starting to get a bit heated.
"Alright then, since you can't do that, could you please fix the front porch step? I don't want anyone getting hurt." I could hear her displeasure in her 'voice'.
"Damn it woman, I am not a bloody carpenter either. Do I have a Home Depot sign on my car, or one of those silly assed orange bibs? I think not." I was over it. "I'm going to watch the game at the bar. I will be back later." I knew I was getting beyond pissed and I didn't want to say the things crossing my mind, since I loved the silly c... Anyway, I grabbed my stuff and headed to the sports bar of my choice.
You see, dad, who is a carpenter, was coming over the next day to help with some of the stuff that needed fixing. But, did she pay attention to that little detail? Nope, she wanted it done when she wanted and planned on bugging me on my only fucking day off.
To the bar I went. I was fuming and it took a good bit of beer to cool off the steam blowing out my ears. Yes, I enjoyed the game, yes I felt bad about blowing up, and yes I switched back to soda after the first pitcher of beer. I started to watch the next game but by the end of the first, it was already a blow out. Knowing I was still buzzed but legal, I headed home. I was only gone about four hours or so, but I needed it for my own sanity.
Her idea of a lesson
So, feeling a bit guilty for going off the handle, I can home and found my loving wife sitting on the fixed front steps. "Hi babe, I'm home." I walked in as saw the hall light on and looked at the repaired fridge door. "How did these things get fixed? I was going to get to them tomorrow." I asked, in an almost reasonable tone of voice.
"Well dear, after you left, I was sitting outside crying for a bit wondering how bad things are. After a while a nice young man was passing by and asked me what was wrong. When I told him what was wrong her offered me a deal." She had a shit eating smile on her face. "He would fix the things in the house if I slept with him or baked him a fancy cake." She finished a bit smugly.
"Oh, okay I guess. So, did he enjoy the cake then?" I asked, not amused.
"Do I look like a fucking pastry chef?" She spit out thinking she won.