65% of a Meatball

My parents asked me to see a psychologist or something of that nature. They didn’t want their little boy hurting himself out in the real world. I had come to respect them now that I was legally an adult, but they seemed to grasp tighter on my freedom as I grew older. You could say that I should just ignore their commands, but it is impossible. I don’t make any money. I did once, but now I have nothing. For now, I must listen to what they tell me to do or they won’t give me my rent money.

I went to Dr. Earl Theram’s office for a free consultation; I couldn’t resist. While waiting, I met a beautiful young woman. Betty Menades was a short, thin woman with intimidating black hair that fell to her shoulders. She spoke in a very frank manner, as if it were nothing. Although I was a complete stranger, she had no problem explaining her situation to me.
“You see,” she said, “I came here two years ago with my husband.”
“Your husband?”
“Oh, ex-husband!” she exclaimed, “We had come here for marriage consultation.”

“So, what happened then?”
“You see, Benjamin, I’m here because two years ago Earl Theram, Dr. Theram, ruined my marriage,” she said in a rant.
“How did he ruin your marriage?”
“He swept me off my feet. I loved Earl for at least five months. It didn’t take me long to see what a lying piece of scum he was,” she answered angrily while lighting a cigarette. She had come to Dr. Earl Theram’s office to tell him to apologize, but I had convinced her to just leave him alone.

Sometime during our conversation, I had fallen deeply in love with Betty Menades. She was an infinitively captivating woman and I was lucky to be with her. After we had dated for roughly eight months, Betty asked me to marry her. I felt peculiar because traditionally I had been taught that the man always proposes, but I suppose that Betty fancied herself to be leader; the dominator. I said yes which the obvious choice was. If I didn’t want to lose Betty eventually I would have to marry her. That is just how the world works. Everyone gets married.

To celebrate our first anniversary we went to the Outer Banks. We rented a beach house for a week, but the both of us wouldn’t stay for the full seven days. I began to see things that puzzled me. Betty smiled past me on night at dinner. She had a certain sparkle in her eyes; it reeked of animalistic attraction. She hadn’t been looking at me! She was looking past me. Who had Betty been smiling at with that glimmer in her eyes? The thought brought forth unrestrained pain and my blood boiled in my veins.

We drove to the beach house. It was fairly expensive, but at least it was next to the beach. She firmly exited the car and I followed her heated with my anger.

“Betty,” I said, “Have you not been honest with me? Did I not see you smiling at someone?”
She smiled and said mockingly, “Is it against the law to smile?”
“Yes, when it’s a smile directed at another man, Betty!”
“Who says I wasn’t smiling at you? Come here, Handsome.”

She was so convincing. Her persuasion was the strongest weapon that I had ever known. Yet, Betty was now a completely different person in my eyes. The charming, frank woman I had met was no longer present when I spoke to her. I had to discover if I had just been imagining things. My sanity needed to know the truth. Who was this man that gave Betty such joy?

I soon discovered when I followed Betty when she went to get some milk. I drove slowly around the corner, watching my Betty’s movements. I saw her approach the market, but instead of entering she kept walking. Betty continued walking until she reached a motel,The Green Penguin. It seemed like the type of motel in which children ran rampant and all of the rooms smelled of cigarette smoke.

I entered The Green Penguin, following little Betty from a distance. The lobby had a wet carpet. This certain motel was very low maintenance apparently. I peered around the corner; she walked or swayed down the hall. Betty stopped and plucked a card key from the inside of her purple purse. After she swished the card and went inside, I snuck to the door. It was room 103. I walked to the lobby and tried to think out a plan. Nothing seemed rational. I couldn’t just rush into the room and accuse. She could just be…doing something for me. That didn’t appear to be likely.

After careless preparation, I decided to go to the corner market. I had finally decided something that I thought was fitting according to my present situation. I made a short list.

The List
- Two cartons of eggs
- Milk
- Loaf of bread
- 2 onions
- Salt
- Plastic Baggies
- Knives

After these had been bought, I ventured back to The Green Penguin, ready to carry out my plan. I walked through the wet lobby and down the hall until I reached room 104. I hadn’t thought through the next part. How was I to get inside the room? Pretend to be room service? I grabbed the door knob and I turned it. Of course nothing happened. I tried again, but I pushed down and the door unlocked.

I entered and I saw that no one was inside the room. Betty and the man must have left. So I hid in the closet and waited with anxious breath. In what must have been at least a half-hour, I waited until I saw the man enter the room. He looked younger when I saw him closer, but this didn’t affect my plan. Fortunately, I had caught the knight in shining armor alone. I didn’t want anyone to see this.

I grabbed the iron next to me. I was surprised how well everything was working out. I remembered the time when Betty burned one of my best shirts while she was ironing. It was a very bad thing to happen. I had a very important business meeting the following day. Of course, being the gullible person I am, all was forgiven. Now this imbecile was going to meet excruciating pain through this iron and it was strangely funny. I kept my laughter inside for the moment. He was facing the opposite direction.

I swung the closet door open and let out a cry of ecstasy as I smashed the iron into his face. His body shifted with the blow. He fell to the floor; going blind from the blood. I acted swiftly and I knelt next to him. I repeatedly pounded the iron on his head. He was whimpering; confused by what was happening. This was not as pleasant as I had hoped. After continued bashing of the cretin’s face, it was concluded that the dimwit was dead.

I took the market bag that stored my ingredients along with my little baggies. I found the knives and I cut the poor sap into many little pieces. I divided the meat from his body and stored them in the plastic baggies. Apart from that, I just decided I didn’t want to clean the room up. I left his horribly mangled body on the floor of room 104 at The Green Penguin motel.

I got into the rental car and drove back to the beach house. I was still a bit of a frightful mess, so I determined that I quick swim in the sea would sort me out. Soaked, I journeyed back to the house. The taste of salt water still on my lips, I changed my clothes. Tonight, I would dine with Betty and the main course was one of her favorites.

I took the baggies containing meat that I scraped off of Betty’s lover and I set them firmly on the countertop. I also obtained the ingredients and I began to make the meatballs. The spaghetti was less important of course, so it could wait. I chopped the onions and crumbled the bread into crumbs. I prepared three beaten eggs and I measured the milk, salt, and meat. I mixed them all together.

As I shaped them into meatballs, I thought about my experience only a couple years ago which led my parents to recommend a psychologist. I had once had aspirations to own a restaurant and eventually I owned one. One thing I will never forget is a little tidbit I learned from my culinary teacher when I was still learning. She had told me that 65% of meatballs must be meat. It puzzled me then and truthfully it is still somewhat an enigma. I was never quite sure how to make my meatballs exactly 65% meat. My restaurant ran out of money and my parents were afraid that I would commit suicide. I'm still not quite sure why it had to be 65% meat, but I guess I'll never know.

I put the uncooked meatballs in the oven. I leaned against the counter. If 65% of each meatball in the oven is Betty’s lover, they are probably going to taste horrible. I cooked spaghetti and the food was all finished right when Betty returned from wherever she had been.
“Oh, that smells wonderful,” she said admiring my handiwork.
“Sit down,” I said, “We have much to talk about.”

Betty walked to the table and sat; hungrily waiting for the spaghetti and meatballs. I stood at the sink and formulated two plates. I privately grinned to myself as I piled meatballs onto Betty’s plate.

I carried both of the plates to the table and I put a plate in front of her. She was truly disgusting. A true human-pig if I ever saw one. She didn’t even wait for me to sit. Betty ate around the meatballs, saving the best for last. She stabbed one with her fork and placed it in her mouth. She chewed savoring the flavors. My meatballs had been a success. She clearly demonstrated that she not only cared for this man; she found him delicious.

She fidgeted in her seat, watching me eat. She looked nervous like she had something to say, but wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

“Do you have something on your mind?” I asked while chewing.
“Benjamin, I have been avoiding this moment for some time now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have been seeing someone for over a year.”
“-But we’ve only been married for a year.”
“I know, I know. I’m very sorry.”
“How did it start?”
“He persuaded me. I guess I was attracted to the fact that it was wrong. He would always take me to motels; sometimes hotels. He does little things that you don’t, I suppose.”
“Such as?”
“I can’t do this. Earl is waiting for me at the airport. Will you promise not to make a big deal out of this?”
“At the airport?”
“Yes, I took him there after I met him today. Do you want to know where we met, Mr. Obsessive?”
“I thought that the both of you met in Room 104. Wasn’t that where you were?”
“Were you following me?”
“Please just answer the question.”
“We were in 103. Look, Benjamin, I’m going to leave.”

She stood from the table and swayed out of the beach house. I was seated; a plate in front of me. The meatballs were delicious, but the sweet taste of revenge had disappeared. They were just meatballs. I really need to see a psychologist.