When Will I Wake Up-Chapter One

                                           When Will I Wake Up?
         
                                       Chapter One

         “Happily ever after,” it just doesn’t get any better than that, but fairytales rarely come true. For most life can be about as encouraging as a couple of dozen meat lover supremes with extra cheese delivered to a Weight Watchers convention. Seldom do you find happy endings in real life. Magic and miracles are sporadic at best. Prince Charmings are scarce, knights in shining armor uncommon to say the least, and love conquers all infrequently on a good day. If only life were a fairytale, a true story of romance to be proudly told and recalled time and time again. Meet the man of your dreams: a superhero with chiseled features, the manners of the most gallant gentleman, and the sensitivity of a saint. Have destiny bring you reciprocated love at first sight, the perfect marriage, home sweet home, a gleaming baby carriage, and then living life to its fullest happily ever after. If only life were fair.  If only everyone got out what they put in. But it rarely works out that way. In fact the opposite is far more likely to occur. However, keep it in mind seldom, sporadic, scarce, uncommon, and infrequent are not the same as never. One thing that tends to hold true in both myth and reality is that the best happy endings often follow the most miserable of beginnings the grimmer the better; hardship, treachery, and tears by the bucketful, sorry to say such is the case here. So try to have a little patience and believe happy endings are still possible for faith seldom goes unrewarded.  Besides who would ever believe it, had it all just fallen into her lap?                     

Sometimes life takes its downward spirals. Her life in particular had been in an out-of-control tailspin for some time now. The hard ground may have been rising up at the speed of sound to smack her right in the kisser, but as far as she was concerned she couldn’t have been put out of her misery fast enough. Splat!  Damn, just another nightmare. She was still trapped alive in a world that was as unfair as it gets. Still here, still in one piece with the major exception of her broken heart.  She just wasn’t lucky enough to escape.  Death and final freedom would have to be put off yet another day.                    

Naïve Josie used to dare dream of crystal castles in the air, chivalrous knights in shining armor, and skipping hand-in-hand through a world empty of dragons, betrayal, and deceit. But childhood, sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows don’t last forever. Neither does a damsel in distress rescue scenario. Eventually we all have to grow up and give up; we all put away such childish notions, such a shame. Now such fantasies not only eluded her, but held no candle whatsoever to the harsh light of reality. The few that survived past her training bra days went down with her shipwreck of a marriage. The dim days seemed to be getting darker as she no longer held onto the courage and belief necessary to fight the good fight, to ward off despair and pestilence.  Depression is more than a downer; it’s a life-sucker. Hell, she barely had enough energy left to get out of the coma that barely passed as sleep these solitary nights. Bitterness had soured all the sweetness the world had to offer. Life was a bitch and surely but surely recruiting Josie as its newest member in the rapid pack of recently divorced she wolves.                                                                         

Life these days was anything but cozy. Insecure, unprotected, and all alone, Josie McGillis woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.  She rolled over into the mattress valley where her warm-bodied, cold-hearted husband used to be.  The speed achieved with no body to stop her spin made for a cruel awakening, a chilly slap in the face from the empty half of a queen mattress with only one source of body heat to keep it warm.  She still had a good 45 minutes before the morning disc jockeys and what passed for zany humor was scheduled to wake her.  Previous clock inspections that evening occurred at two, four, and six hours prior to alarm detonation. Yep her insomnia seemed to be right on schedule; just for once she wished her nightly clock-worshipping routine would kilter at least a tad. Unfortunately even with the additional room to stretch out she found it useless trying to catch a few more winks. She couldn’t get the thought of, “Now that you’ve made your bed, you must lie in it,” out of her mind.  The endless tossing and turning had ruined any chance for true rest. So she arose groggily and staggered into the bathroom.
         

Wiping the tears from her puffy eyes, rubbing the goose bumps off her cold skin, and working the stiffness from her weary bones Josie began her morning ritual.  Lately it took all the effort she could muster just to barely feel human. More and more she considered herself a sub-species, about as low on the food chain as one with opposable thumbs could get. Robotically brushing her teeth to obliterate her deadly morning breath, Josie had the misfortune of taking a good look at herself in the mirror.  Damned crows’ feet were looking more and more like ostrich hooves.  And what was the deal with her pores?  Her nose appeared to have been the landing zone for a billion of so sand meteorites overnight. A quick check of her breasts revealed they had migrated further south as well. Chasing her reflected tail she could only assume the worse, that her butt had fallen to gravity’s evil groping clutch as well. Why couldn’t it be the earth that had one-sixth the gravity of the moon? All those head-strong male scientists need to take a closer look at that if they’re expecting her to continue to let them inspect her hindquarters. Next she opened the medicine cabinet to return the overly-squeezed tube and took note of her sleeping pill prescription. It was her second refill, still topped-off; she was trying to kick the newly acquired habit. She already had too many expenses with too little cash to throw at them. As she distantly stared at the pretty pink candies she wondered just how many it would take to get a permanent night’s sleep.
         

Comes a certain age and a little security can go a long way, even if it’s all an illusion. Too think it wasn’t all that long ago that Josie believed whole-heartedly in the American Dream. A hard-working devoted husband whose live centered around making her happy. And she, the equally loyal housewife, trying her daily best to please her bread-winner. A small three bedroom house on a nice cul-de-sac with two car garage, two children, a matched set-one boy, one girl, and a lovingly devoted hubby.  Rap up that perfect package in a freshly painted white picket fence and Josie had no problem with working two jobs to keep it all.  Cashier and housewife, slave and care provider, she could put up with crude managers half her age, carpel-tunnel and sore feet if she got to come home to a cozy healing home at the end of her shift.  She could even cook and clean a bit every evening as long as her husband and hatchlings appreciated all her efforts.  Yes indeed, Josie was willing to sacrifice as much as it took to make her dreams come true.  If only it were that simple. Unfortunately the Ozzie and Harriet package was about as possible as living in a black and white world.                                                             

Cross your fingers, count your lucky stars, and pray your heart and soul out. No matter how hard you might wish for it, no matter how heavy you might sweat for it, dreams seldom stand up in the light of day. Josie, you see, was a recently divorced formerly trusting woman who put her faith, devotion, and loyalty in the wrong man.  Friends and family tried to tell her she was headed down a treacherous path, the warning signs were all there in vivid Technicolor, but she wouldn’t head them. Logic and lust seldom mix.  Wisdom freely chose to yield way to overwhelming desire. No one can completely control their emotions, especially not the strongest one of all. Her head might have known Rex wasn’t the one for her, his wandering eyes never stayed put on her for long, still her heart stubbornly insisted on the first one to bring butterflies to her belly. The heart wants without reason sometimes. The chemistry of love has little to do with the brain and everything to do with that blasted valentine beating in your chest. When you chose to believe in someone with your entire soul there can be no holding back.  Perhaps that’s the way it should be-perhaps not. That means putting it all on the line taking the biggest risk of your life.  Those true believers in love do that everyday, at least until harsh reality crushes them.  Romance is not a game for the weak. Fact is it’s not a game at all.  It is about as serious as life can get. The problem is typically with men. They tend to be too chicken to listen to their hearts, preferring to follow their penises instead.  They insist on looking at sex as merely a game of give and take, focusing mostly on the take with one-night conquests and high-scores being there primary goals. And they call women “fickle!”   
             

Like life, love can be a bitch, but usually it’s the bastard’s fault. Nonetheless starry-eyed romantics rarely give in, particularly in their early years. Puppy love can make fools of us all. Just like most women she had to learn the hard way that all men are dogs. Josie was cute in high school, a little short with a nice rack that got her noticed at just about the same time as all the other girls.  Add to that an aurora of “baby fat” that never went away no matter how many diets she tried or how many miles she tred going nowhere. She wasn’t a cheerleader or an athlete, but she did attend many games.  Neither was she a member of the debate team or honor society, but she could firmly stand her ground giving oral reports.  She wasn’t a writer either, but she loved to read poetry-the more romantic the better. Inspired by the greatest writers the public school system could afford to put into their curriculum, her secret diary entries focused mainly on the notion of a perfect love expressed with the perfect words.  Not in with the cool kids, but not cast out with the nerds and geeks either; in other words, a typical, normal American girl.                     

Romance can be a game for two or two thousand, it depends on the players and how far they’re willing to go, and whether taken seriously or taken for granted. Love or lust, passion or primal instincts, it’s all in the groins and/or heart of the beholder. There are a lot of fish in the sea or “ripe hunks ready to be plucked” as Josie liked to put it in her rambunctious youth.  Despite the clandestine flirtatious rendezvous she bragged to her friends about Josie didn’t play the field much. Like half of America she had hooked up and married her high school sweetheart, Rex McGillis. (“Rex,” should have been her first clue-the perfect name for a real hound dog) Josie and Rex began sitting in a tree and “k-i-s-s-i-n-g” in their sophomore year. He was the third boy she ever dated, the first two being all hands, one with added slimy tongue, braces, and halitosis. Rex wasn’t shy about using his tongue either, but he had the decency of downing a Tic-Tac first. In teenage love any little gesture is thought of in the grandest way.                                                  

As far as manners went, etiquette wasn’t Rex’s strong suite. He never opened doors for “the love of his life” with the one and only exception of opening his truck’s door on their first date. Never did he pull out a chair; although numerous times he did strategically place his palm-up hand on the seat of one just as Josie was sitting down. He only did ye ole stretch and grab a booby move twice before just openly groping her. Romeo Rex was a genuine show-off, how he loved to stick out his heavy metal tongue and flick it suggestively in the breeze at any short skirt that swayed by. That long drooling tongue of Rex’s should have been her second clue, but love really is blind. He was only the second lover she ever had, her first encounter getting all of the awkwardness out of the way. Perhaps Josie just gave it up too easily.  Perhaps all men weren’t really greedy little boys at heart.  Perhaps there were a few good sperm donors out there somewhere.  Perhaps you get just what you’re willing to settle for. Raging teenage hormones being what they are, nature will take its course. Once the busy bee got a taste of honey he assumed it was his for the asking, and soon after that the horny pest stopped asking.                                                                                                                        

In Josie’s defense, few of her generation remained pure for long. In a world full of self-centered gratification chastity just ain’t what it used to be. Still sex at sixteen is never what it’s cracked up to be; far more hands and genitalia than heart and soul. More often than not it’s over before you know it.  That’s why teenagers do it so often, less they forget.                                                                                                                        

Rex wasn’t the cream of the crop, but he was a cocky confident son of a bitch; and in teenage parlance that can be the most potent aphrodisiac of all. (Confidence ain’t looked upon too shabby in the adult dating universe either) Earned or not, someone who thinks the most of himself tends to make others feel more important by being with him. Had she not given in, another girl would have stepped up in her place.  She soon discovered that forked flexible tongue of his did have its advantages. Rex was no maestro in the sack, he definitely didn’t have a delicate touch, but he’d get the job done more often than not.  And at least he tried to be gentle, once in a while.  Still his constantly roving eyes telegraphed the likelihood of a not-to-bright or faithful future.                               

Every dog does have his day. In someone’s spellbound eyes even the mangiest of mutts can pass as a pure breed at least once in its life. Dating Rex was indeed a dog, but as a husband he did willingly heel, at first. He wasn’t much of a poet, still his wedding vows referred to Josie as being the “air that he breathed.” (If Josie could have only known just how quickly he would find her stale) In his newlywed state Rex did show a hint or two of civilized courting potential. The gentleman groom caved-in on their limited budget honeymoon, allowing Josie her standard Niagara Falls view by dropping his dream Las Vegas gambling package. During their first year together as husband and wife he even introduced Josie as his “better half” on more than one occasion.                              

Alas chivalry may not be dead, but it often has an extremely short shelf-life. The shine and sheen of the gleaming wedding gown faded as it always does, and married life commenced.  Anniversaries that were dutifully remembered faded into forgotten forget-me-not forgiveness bouquets.  Josie found her birthday gifts dwindling down to a mere box of chocolates. Eventually he didn’t even bother with those, except once a year on Valentine’s Day. (Not even the worst husband can expect to get away with completely ignoring his romantic responsibilities) Nights out on the town gave way to long days at work followed by just enough energy left to gulp down dinner, get in a little TV, and plop off to sleep. Showers of appreciation, affection, and attention became sparse as a drought of love entered her married life. Half the time Josie didn’t even get her goodnight kiss until Rex was out for the count.                                                                                          

Life has its way of squashing the soul. Bills pile up, laundry and dishes do too, and there just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day. Things went along on a typical path; he worked selling insurance, she had her menial mind-numbing spirit-crushing job in local retail.  He got home too exhausted after a long day at work to lift a finger other than to push a button on the remote.  She got home just as exhausted only to have to work her second job housekeeping and her third job cleaning up after him. Josie definitely got the short end of the stick, even if she did her best not to throw that fact into Rex’s face very often. Right or wrong, she was raised to honor her husband above everything else; a genuine Stepford Wife-bred to the subservient bone to keep her mouth shut and do as she was told. And so she did most of the time, airing her spousal grievances out over the telephone line to any friend who would listen, but rarely face to face with the actual callous cause of her hardships. As far as the increasingly cold-hearted Rex knew he could indeed have his cake and eat it too. The blissful couple even dutifully attended church every Sunday, at least until their lives just got too busy.                                                             

True love-is it real or mere illusion? Sharing all life’s joys and burdens may be the noblest of goals, but only when both parties are committed whole-heartedly to the endeavor. A happy marriage is often just a sham; the smiling couple actually burying deep seeded rage for one another. Walking hand-in-hand through life may look ideal, but often closer analysis reveals the two intertwined hands are actually squeezing each other too tightly. A bride and groom settling for each other because they fear a life alone can easily end up resenting each other for not living up to fanciful expectations. Everyone wants a perfect marriage, but few realize the compromise and hard work required to make it happen. The frustration that lies beneath the surface often simmers for years. The prisons are full of prime examples of it boiling over.  Just as often family secrets are taken to the grave.                                                                                                    

All life’s a gamble, especially married life. They should flip a coin on the wedding altar: heads you stay together till death do you part, tails you hang in there until you just can’t stand it anymore. Josie and Rex’s time together was nothing too extravagant, nothing too tragic, just a typical life together as husband and wife.  Fights were never knock-down, drag-out brawls and primarily broke out over finances, but that was just the tip of the iceberg that would sink their marriage.                                        

It was far from perfect, yet as far as Josie was concerned everything was going along according to plan, with the possible exception of her constantly reminding Rex that it was their Christian duty to go forth and multiply. Anyway the two-income family of two went along uneventfully living the penny-pinching upper-lower class American Dream. 
           

One fine day Josie came to the realization that they weren’t just living from paycheck to paycheck any longer; they had actually accrued a tidy little nest egg. She finally believed Rex and her relationship was about to change for the better. A bouncy baby could easily shed some new needed light across their dark doorstep. The miracle of birth could bring a rebirth to their marriage. Nothing brings toasty warm hope with it quite as effectively as a stork. A bun in the oven could easily make home-sweet-home cozy once more. She would be having his baby, the expecting to become a mother to be fully believed a glowing growing life within her belly would rekindle Rex’s love for her. However just when things were looking brighter, it all went horribly wrong.  Instead of Josie’s life being darkest before the re-born dawn, she hit a total eclipse of the heart.
         

There was no use in trying to deny it. Financially all of hubby’s hard work was finally beginning to pay off.  Rex’s getting-better-all-the-time job had just promoted him to regional manager.  Now finally mother-to-be Josie felt sure she and her #1 papa could start that family they always spoke about; one boy, one girl, destined to be the best of friends born no more than two years apart. (Being an only child Josie never believed in sibling rivalry. How could any child hate having a live-in true blood brother or sister?) He would have his father’s dashing good looks and his mother’s compassionate eyes.  She would have her mother’s looks minus 20 pounds, plus her father’s winning charisma. If she had anything to say about it both lucky youngsters would have everything she had to do without. She would smother her prodigy with so much attention they would ooze self-esteem from every pore. They could and would grow up to be anything they wanted to be.


Despite how it so often turns out, marriage is meant to be the time in your life when “me” becomes “we” and baby makes “three.” Unfortunately Rex could never see beyond his own selfish needs. He didn’t want to share his toys with anybody, not his wife not even his own seed. “Baby, you gotta be crazy!” Bringing children into this world had always been a touchy subject. Convenient excuses for putting off the greatest miracle of all seemed to materialize from thin air. Living his golden years vicariously through his offspring never appealed to him. Rex just didn’t seem to want to live forever. Excuses came a dime a dozen: the fairness of bringing a child into such a messed up world, the heartbreak of birth defects or worse, the colds, flues, and other confined classroom illnesses he would be exposed to, and of course they just didn’t have the spare room for a nursery.  The chief repeated reason was that Rex had been putting off the expense of children until they were more financially stable. Why their utility bills alone would double. Then there was the groceries-kids devour food like locusts. Not to forget and constantly mentioning the cost of designer fad clothing, video games, cell-phones, I-pods, and whatever new gadgets junior just couldn’t possibly live without. “The cost of raising and educating a kid these days is astronomical and it just keeps on skyrocketing.  You must be a millionaire before even considering it.”  But she wouldn’t hear any of it; Josie’s biological clock was ticking louder than ever. After 10 years of marriage, one-forth the mortgage paid off, two reasonably well conditioned cars, and now a 50% pay raise; the time was finally right, or so she thought. Conception was at hand and all was right with the world once more. The wondrous night that should have created life would end up being the worst nightmare of her life.
         

Hairs were pulled, feet were impatiently shuffled, and nails chewed as six, seven, and then eight chimed away right on schedule on her grandmother’s grandfather’s clock standing guard next to the umbrella stand in the foyer. Rex dragged his weary slick salesman’s ass across the threshold exhausted as usual. The hard-working husband got home from work extra late, as was now typical with his new promotion. (The cheating clues should have clubbed Josie over the head, yet they went completely unnoticed)          


You can’t put a bun in the oven without first slapping some butter on the pans. All had been lovingly prepared for his most honored arrival. This time Josie had an elegant candle-light dinner ready and waiting. A multi-course feast fit for a king, far bigger than any Thanksgiving meal for two had ever been, was artistically laid out on her finest china with a never used tablecloth spread out beneath. Josie thought she had thought of everything. The inviting scent of vanilla incense barely covered his favorite meal with all his favorite trimmings including his favorite brew in a frosted mug with back-up mugs standing in the freezer. (A full tank of fuel for the long night ahead and a little lube to get his balls rolling) The set had been strategically painstakingly prepared in order to prepare Rex for the time to get busy getting busy talk; an over-rehearsed speech Josie was primed and ready to fire out. The inferno of flickering candles in the bedroom was choreographed for conception; atop the nightstand: rose petals, massage oils, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and honey. The queen size mattress covered with new red satin sheets spread out waiting to be stained, all dressed to set the mood. The bath vanity had Rex’s favorite scents ready and waiting, a new transparent surprise from Victoria’s Secret barely dangling behind the door.  Ovulation was in full swing. All condoms, spermicidal ointments, and contraceptive materials had been confiscated and banned for the evening.           


Love was in the air, or at least as close a facsimile that Josie was capable of. The heat was cranked up to encourage the removal of clothing with a virtual fire blazing and crackling on the television screen adding to the sweltering effect. The flickering of the television screen mimicked the real-life flames of the parade of candles leading to the conception chamber. On the CD carrousel were Time Life’s Greatest Romantic hits all lined up and programmed to play all night long at the press of a single button.                              

It was mid-autumn and Josie could think of nothing better to bring much needed warmth into her life than a summer baby. No doubt about it the game was on, and Josie was ready, willing, and more than able to please her man. Her warm blood was running hot. Instead of her normal peck on the cheek with accompanying “How was your day dear,” Josie hit him hard with a full-court press body-slamming hug. She threw her feminine charms at him so tight and snuggly that not an inch of air could squeeze between the two. Just incase the chemistry wasn’t enough, she added as much body friction as she possibly could to heat things up. She made sure he felt every soft-n-smooth inch of curve she had, while making sure she had her hand on the desired sperm-donor target.                                                                                                              
Women can be temperamental. Men beasts on the other hand, are always in the mood, when they’re not something is most definitely wrong. Unfortunately the best laid plans of woman often go astray. Josie’s heavily applied affectionate appetizers didn’t exactly get Rex’s motor running.  Instead all her tender loving care seemed to do was tickle his appetite.  Rather crudely, with a mere peck on the lips, Rex shoved his adoring wife aside to hungrily attack the feast laid out before him instead. The only words that spewed out of his foul mouth before stuffing it with food were, “Why is it so Goddamn hot in here?  I’m not made of money you know!”                                                                      

Taking the blow to her sex appeal in stride as best she could Josie joined him, silently telling herself he must have been starving after a very long day at work doing his best to provide for her.  Besides he could use the calories for the long night of passion ahead of them, she wouldn’t want him falling asleep too early.  She was hoping for an encore or three as well.  The fact Rex was completely oblivious to all her hard work in setting the mood was completely oblivious to her. The last thing Josie wanted to see was the truth. The lies a woman in love tells herself can be considerably more than a bit delusional.                                                                                                              

We can’t always get what we want.  But when you can’t get what you need, that’s when it really hurts; the more desperate the need, the deeper the pain. Rex was about to cause Josie some serious permanent emotional harm. If only his only problem was not keeping his elbows off the table. Since their wedding day Josie had learned her hoggish hubby wasn’t much for manners. Just like a fat pig at a slop trough Rex scoffed down his meal spilling equally large portions on the fancy tablecloth as well as the floor. The gorging gourmet did manage a complement or two on the cuisine, belted out between burps. Even his low IQ realized all that hard work of Josie’s had to be rewarded if he was to expect anymore home cooked meals. The comments of: “now that’s what I call cooking” followed by “let’s hear it for the chef” were eagerly swallowed by Josie. In Josie’s love-struck unappreciated eyes, they were all high praise indeed even if spoken with cavernous mouth full and spurting. It was amazing that he managed to taste much of it at all considering how fast he swallowed the half that did stay in his mouth. Heck Rex was a verifiable food sprinkler; you could fertilize the lawn with his leftover castaway scraps. Had they a pet dog he or she would have been one plump puppy over-stuffed on under-table scraps alone. Lately Josie took what little she could get, and those two minor complements meant the time to strike was now. Right before serving dessert, Josie delicately served Rex the news that she had gone off the pill and no latex would be entering her fertile valley anytime soon. The results were somewhat less than anticipated.  Hell, they were the opposite of what anyone could have hoped for. 
         

A loyal and dedicated wife’s pleas to start a family fell on deaf ears. A normal man would have at least talked things out. An honorable man would have seen her case and considered her request fairly. A righteous man would have cleared the table as quick as possible and made love to his wife right then and there in as passionate a manner possible. Rex, staying true to having little character, said nothing more than “Pass the dessert.”                                                                                                              

That low-down dirty dog Rex heartily gulped down as large a third portion of his favorite cherry cheesecake that he could jam into his big fat mouth.  Having absolutely no appetite for anything but sex, looking on with uttermost concern Josie only pecked at her miniscule portion of the evening’s banquette. At this pent-up point Josie had been sitting on pins and needles for a good half hour. She had finally let the child cat out of the bag only to have kid kitty completely ignored. Josie poked and prodded, nudged and nagged, but the eating machine kept on running nonstop, slurping and smacking, as if she wasn’t there.  It was more than cold, more than rude, it was pure indifference. She meant nothing more to him than the chair she sat on, just as indispensable as the food he so relentlessly consumed.                                                                                                               

Some guys treat their pet hunting hounds better than the devoted woman they swore vows to. Seems in redneck country the ability to tree a coon far exceeds the ability to clean, cook, and serve the remains, not to mention breeding offspring. “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with,” a very popular macho bigamist motto immortalized in a free love song somewhere.  One night stand or the love of your life, in either case you should never ignore the one sitting right in front of you. Had he one once of compassion the monster’s heart would have melted with the intense sad looks radiating from the one he swore vows to.  Seems the “till death do you part” clause had completely escaped his mind. He may have been sitting directly across from his wife, but it was obvious his mind was long gone and far away.  Her eyes were locked on his searching for the slightest hint of hope while his eyes gazes right through her as if she were completely invisible.                                                                                                              

Men can be such egotistical assholes at times, some much more than others. Rex seemed to have come to the conclusion that a wife was a piece of property; to be appreciated or ignored as he saw fit. Treating her as a piece of furniture really went against Josie’s grain, however she was never the violent type so she calmly sat back and waited for cooler thoughts to prevail, otherwise the proud lady within might have grabbed him by the collar and bitch-slapped a red-faced response out of him. Or the more unladylike part of her might have kicked him in the nuts until she had extracted some sperm the hard way. The homemaker in her did have some stuffing left in the fridge and had a very good idea of exactly were to cram it.  Later she really would wish she had done that…and shoved him into the oven as well. 


You’re not supposed to, but you can judge some books by their cover, particularly dirty magazines. As it turned out Rex really was the kind of guy who believed the universe centered around him. A puffed-chested bloated bullying braggart overflowing with all the unmitigated gall only a true asshole can fart out. To his small blood-deprived mind women were the heavenly bodies that just couldn’t resist the gravity of his family charms. The flash in the pan surface was all there was to him.  He really was the shallow superficial jerk that was painfully obvious to see; there was no deep side to him whatsoever.  He was such an obnoxious jerk people assumed there just had to be more underneath, but there really wasn’t. Common sense dictated his inbred subspecies should have been extinct generations prior. He was too bad to be true, yet he was. Rex was the type of man who treated women as mere sex objects because that’s all they would ever be to him.  Josie was the type of woman who wanted to believe in the best in people.  She had to believe that there at least a little bit of good in everyone, even those who had no good side.                                                                                                              

Don’t doubt it for a second; sometimes words can do more damage than fists.  Yadda…yadda….yadda…“Behind every good man is a good woman.”… “A woman’s place is in the home.”... “Self-sacrifice is a woman’s duty, serve your husband before all else, including yourself.”  Josie’s old-fashioned out-dated mother had really done a thorough job of brain-washing on her. She would have been better off with a lobotomy. Raise your kid to be a slave and that’s all they’ll ever be. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” may be true, but you can bet sparing the praise and ruining a child’s future to be a sure thing.  Lacking self-esteem and confidence Josie was destined to be a doormat.                    

All a taught-to-be-too timid Josie could do was sit impatiently and think about all her lord and master’s possible delayed reactions. Just what turned her loving man to stone?  The “king of his castle” was never shy about barking out commands before. At first meek-mannered Josie assumed it was shock; that Rex wasn’t ready to talk just yet, but eventually would come around. The big arrogant dope was never one to keep his big trap shut. Yet now, when she desperately wanted him to yell in her direction, he sat silent, except for the munching and crunching seeping out between chomps. She sat still and quiet doing her best not to implode.  She knew she couldn’t hold her tongue much longer.                    


Truth be told Josie had rehearsed well for her upcoming debate. Her inner nag was chewing at the bit for an argument.  This time logic was on her side. After all they now had the money.  Rex hadn’t used his den in sometime and it was perfect for baby.  The cars weren’t new, but they were paid off and still had a lot of mileage still left in them. The mortgage payments remained on schedule and her credit cards were actually paid in full for once in her life. Josie had finally learned to live within a set budget and even had managed to draw up a new plan to include baby. Everything from diapers to college account had been included. Both prospective parents were in good health with no ailments currently threatening their savings. Parents on both sides of the aisle were anxious for grandkids. The bidding for who would be designated godparents would start off that college account nicely. The timing was about as good as it was going to get. Even the global-warming world at war didn’t seem as bad as it used to. (Of course that was mostly due to the press being on vacation from reality lately)


The heat was still turned up, there was no breeze, yet Josie felt a cold chill running down her stiff spine. Like a mighty tree with wide-bottom deep roots the fertile bush sat dead still on her seat. Other than her flittering heart and toes curling up tight in her high heels, the ever-tensing bundle of nerves didn’t budge a muscle. Many things crossed Josie’s mind during her planted torment. The worst reaction she feared was anger. Was Mount Rex getting ready to blow? Rabid Rex never listened to reason once he started foaming at the mouth. In his current state of devouring one couldn’t be sure what was drool and what was foam. They call women fickle, but Rex was as flippant as the worst case of PMS ever recorded. And his legendary mood swings weren’t limited to once a month. Her proud husband changed his mind more often than an anorexic mirror-addicted sweet sixteen girl changes outfits for her peer-pressured coming-out social event of the season.                                                                                                               

Men can be such babies at times, especially the ones that consider themselves better than that. Rex always thought of himself as master of his domain, a self proclaimed monarch of all that he surveyed.  His accuracy at the toilet often made her question whether or not Sir Drinks-a-lot was marking his kingdom. Josie was used to his decrees and had learned to ignore them as best she could. Humor the crowned ape, applaud him when he beats his chest, dodge the excrement he throws your way, toss him a banana every now and again, tug on his banana on occasion, and generally he’ll leave you be. The endless shit didn’t just leak out of his royal mouth either; his highness’s skid-marked drawers made her question whether or not he could use maxi-pads more than she.                    


She may not have had a pitchfork in hand, but this particular serf was revolting. Royal etiquette had been bypassed this evening. The feudal system was in danger of collapsing. Tonight the king of his castle’s royal ass was likely pissed she didn’t let him decide when to bring a bundle of joy into their life. The lord of the manor was preoccupied stuffing his face, but that wouldn’t last forever. Tarred and feathered, drawn and quartered, filleted and fricasseed, about another half dozen not-so-remote possibilities crossed the poor disobedient girl’s mind as she patiently sat there. Bracing herself for what was about to be unleashed upon her Josie became a sweating still-life doing her best to keep her silent screams to herself.  Self-torture can be the worst torture of all. The pressure was unbearable, a sigh or three did slip out.
         

During Rex’s uncharacteristic silence Josie built an invisible brick wall around herself in hopes of sparing herself from or at least deflecting some of the oncoming storm. Layer after layer of imagined excuses to forgive all the insults and cruelty she knew was about to head her way. Each and every single brick mortared in place with a prayer. Unfortunately even the most honored Eagle Scout can’t be prepared for everything. Life is full of surprises, often unwelcome ones.                                                  

What happened next will blindside some of you, especially those of you more old-fashioned, die-hard romantics. Some will know better; modern women will consider it par for the course. Realists know better than to set their sights too high. The greater your expectations, the more likely you will be disappointed and the harder the fall will be. Those of you that believe “love conquers all” need to be reminded that may occasionally be true, but only when both parties equally share that love. Despite their constant bickering and insecurities on who has the bigger penis all men may be created equal, but few treat women as such and therefore truly balanced relationships are about as common as lady presidents. Most marriages are give and take with women lovingly giving and men taking as much as their grubby mitts can get. Skeptics worldwide know to expect the worst is to rarely be wrong. More than a few will have actually seen this coming, unfortunately open-hearted, wide-eyed, and desperate to believe Josie wasn’t one of them. 
           

The second Rex licked his plate clean he topped off his gluttonous feast by letting lose an extremely vulgar self-relieving fart, one deserving of a flushing ovation.  He was always such a class act, a genuine endless whoopee-cushion. Since Josie had long since developed a nasal immunity to most of Rex’s unruly bodily functions the bathroom stench that engulfed the room was nothing in comparison to what was about to come out his fiendishly foul mouth. Following that openly-released rudely tooted below the belt spray of disrespect he looked Josie straight into her less-than-amused yet still adoring eyes, bluntly stating for the record: “You stupid fat hog!  Have a child with you, why I wouldn’t produce a litter with you if my life depended on it!  How dense can you be woman; didn’t you get a clue when I stopped touching you months ago?  How about all those “late nights” at the office; the perfume scent on my clothes, hell there was even literally lipstick on my collar once.  Damn bitch, how dense can you be!”
         

Never one to mince his words the big clumsy oaf Rex knew not of finesse, but this time he really took the cake. And we’re not just talking cheese cake folks! Ignorance may not be an excuse, but it comes standard in affairs of the heart. Love really is blind, deaf, and dumb; enchanted eyes see what the heart tells them to see, music-filled ears don’t hear the hints the heart can’t take, and the perfumed nose refuses to sniff out any suspicions the heart refuses to believe. A spellbound soul can see no sin in the mate it believes it is destined to spend eternity with.                                                            

For months Rex had been spending more time away from home than actually there. He wasn’t stingy at all about dropping obvious hints and clues that something was seriously amiss. His lame explanations, when given at all, were barely thought out. Those mysterious persistent phone calls with static only answering were written off as telemarketers. No matter what the time of day, and even on weekends, dump-her to hump-her traffic was always at a standstill, car troubles included so many flats a Voodoo curse must have been placed upon his head, and road construction seemed to “pop up” along Rex’s route on a daily basis.                                                            

Unquestioningly loyal Josie went along with each and every empty-headed erect-penis excuse. She never called the office to check on his “late meetings.” Neither did she ask to see the bills for fixing all those flats. It never even occurred to her to hire a private investigator. She didn’t even question a single one those questionable business expenses that kept cropping up on their credit cards.  Restaurants, bars, even hotel rooms were all charged to “entertain clients.” Rex just told her they would be reimbursed at year end as part of his “expense account.” He kept shoveling out the same old excuses and she did her best to sweep them under the rug and out of her head. He’d been treating her like dirt for nearly a year and she’d been letting him get away with it. Even all the months of being given the bum’s rush along with the cold shoulder were written off as stress from the increased pressure he was under at work.                                                            

By this obscenely pathetic point you’re likely chanting to yourself, “Nobody, but nobody’s that dense.”  Yet it happens all the time.  Romeo becomes Casanova while Juliet pines away patiently on her balcony waiting for him to come home. Sure, at least on some unconscious level Josie had to realize her husband was having an affair, but her mind stubbornly refused to admit it.  She still saw stars in his eyes.  She fondly remembered the butterflies that came with each and every deep kiss as those kisses cooled off and grew further and further apart. Her trusting nature came right round to bite her on the ass. All that loyalty and devotion earned her was a broken heart. Than who ever said life was fair?  And love can be far crueler than life.                                                  

“Temporary insanity,” those two words locked into a loop in Josie’s troubled mind. Just one woman on the jury and she could easily get away with it. Another murder-suicide nearly rocked the local headlines. Had there been a gun in the house there would have been an assassination. Even without a single shot fired the king was dead! Her angelic hard-working husband was dethroned, in his place stood the devil himself. Cupid morphed into a demon that very day. In a horrible instant Josie’s life was shattered.  Had she not been weakened by her broken heart she would have performed an impromptu Bobbitectmy sex change operation on her roaming hubby. If ever a horny hound needed spading it was he.                                                                                                              

To say Josie was in a state of shock would be putting it mildly. Her mind went blank, all her plans were erased, her dreams dissolved. Her life meant nothing. Her faith in mankind obliterated, her faith in God hanging on by the slenderest of threads. If there was a God how could He or She not smite such an evildoer then and there, right on the sacrilegious spot? Had she been praying to the wrong God all these years? An incredibly cruel two minute speech delivered by the blasphemous blow-hard who had vowed to “love, honor, and respect till death do them part” ripped her heart out and tore it to shreds.                                                                                                              

This property condemned! In her mind her best of days were all long gone. It was the worst day of her miserable life. What good memories she had were all tarnished by a blundering bastard who threw away the best thing in his life without thinking twice. Mentally she was in shambles. Emotionally she was completely devastated. Spiritually she was slammed into limbo. Physically she felt as if she had been hit directly in the kisser by a sledge hammer, then before she could catch her breath or gather her teeth, a dagger was plunged into her heart. She no longer had any inkling of where she belonged in the universe.  She was lost.  She was grasping at thin air.  She was as despondent as any woman has ever been.                                                                                                    

As far as her actual position in the dining room went: she was literally thrown back by Rex’s heavy-handed harshness, tipping over chair and all.  It wasn’t a pretty picture at all, heartbreaks never are.  A toppled Josie managed to regain enough composure to barely stand, climbing her tipped chair to do so, trembling and shaking uncontrollably while her body slowly absorbed the overwhelming blow. Her heart had burst in her chest. She found herself wishing that the fall had broken her neck.  At least then she would have mercifully been put out of her misery. The fact she was still breathing was a miracle. The fact Rex wasn’t struck down by lightning or she with a kitchen knife was another one.  But Josie couldn’t see any miracles at the moment. She couldn’t see any glimmer of hope at all.                                                                                   

Love can be a battlefield on which some wars can never be won. The last 45 minutes the “happy couple” would ever spend together went as follows:  Josie recovering barely enough to go through the cliché speech about giving him the best years of her life; Rex choosing to respond with another devastating blow, this one landing even harder.  Remaining true to being a son of a bitch, the cold-hearted bastard informed her that not only had he been having the repugnant cradle-robbing affair with his just this side of jailbait juvenile assistant, but also that teen angel was pregnant, 7 months with perfect beautiful twins.  The bout was over in the third round. Josie was left KO’d, speechless, down for the count, reeling in the news that her dream motherhood was stolen by a teenage slut business school graduate. Rex packed a few of his favorite things, grabbed the remaining cheesecake from the table stuffing it in her favorite piece of Tupperware, and left for good.                                                                                                               

Whereas Josie was a completely abandoned wreck, Rex danced out of her life walking on clouds. Rex was grateful to finally be cut loose and fancy free starting his spanking new life, and he callously let Josie know it.  Josie, crushed beyond belief, couldn’t believe what her ears were telling her. She would be hard strived to ever believe in anything after this. She wouldn’t even think of prayer for weeks to come, although she did come dangerously close to black magic and devil-worshipping seeking revenge.                    

Tears can’t flow forever, but sometimes it seems otherwise. Her tears finally dried as the colorful leaves fell from the trees. Dehydrated and disillusioned she took to drink. Halloween was fast approaching and Josie just had the worst trick of her life played on her. For a devilish treat she decided to throw herself one hell of a bonfire. The primary fuel for the fire would be Rex’s clothes, with the exception of his finest suit and worst pair of skid-marked shorts.  She stuffed the suit with leaves dressing the shorts on the outside for all to see, and then attached a missing-tooth faced pillow head to her creation. With redneck pride she proudly defiantly hung in effigy on display in her front yard. The sign she placed under it read: “Scumbag of the Millennia.”