Something you need to know about a very important woman in my life.

 

The woman who would one day go on to become my third wife is, just now, sitting with her ample legs crossed on a stool in a corner near a town where folks of my religious persuasion are forbidden from owning multiple devices for fear that we may try something untoward and all-encompassing, yet ephemeral and sophisticated. As she sits and plays little games with herself, her next-of-kin and their reliably overweight caretaker, I resolve to take my good, sweet time to introduce a revolutionary product-line into what passes for a blatant case of expansionary exhaustion. In years to come, I will needle her ceaselessly and she will respond by endeavouring to espouse a vile lifestyle of vagrancy and deceit. No one will--or would!--imagine to what lengths I went to have her incarcerated while there was still time.

Now that our three insipid children are fully grown and endowed with scarcely believable origin stories of their own, we both feel it would only be right to see their wizened visages inscribed on several pieces of old burlap taking up space in our frightfully cluttered garage. I've told her more than once that this won't be the end of it. Her reaction? She just stands there like it was something she ate. I, in turn, go my own way and and vow to never return to a nondescript street in a moderately sized neighborhood a few miles from where our beloved poodle, Sherry, caught rheumatic fever and tragically passed away.

The activity coming in through the window on this torrid Summer evening reminds a few of those who withhold their ascent at all cost of a time in the earlier years of this Century when the demands of holding one's own took a toll rarely seen when 'relapse' was the byword of the day. I took to spelling it out in graphic detail over the fetid recusal of quite a few of their unkempt number. They slapped me with an injunction so fast, it'd make your head spin. But that's not why you decided to give me the 'what-for' in the first place, right?  No! You had this not-so-funny idea that stuff like this would make you look, somehow, 'big', right? And then I would go with you into 'that good night' and all would be forgiven, right? Well. Could you please arrange to have some of her things sold off before anyone gets back? It won't more than a moment or two and then you can pursue an alternate field of study. If I had my way, no one within a hundred miles would ever know a damned thing about some of the complaints I've gotten. Don't bother to say 'thank you'; it'd just remind me how disingenuous you are, especially when I'm sitting on the john.

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