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I think the most beautiful things in life are free. I don't believe the greatest rewards are materialistic objects, hell no. There are some points growing up when you realize that a bunch of possessions aren't going to bring you happiness; it's people. And emotion. And other flowery things like that for anyone with a vagina.
My car's been in the shop for the entire week so I've resorted to that unsavory method of transportation, public transit. I don't much mind this; I enjoy walking from place to place since it gives me time to think, and I can't drink while I'm driving. Well, I can't drink out in public either, but it's not nearly as difficult to avoid getting caught. I just start dancing around outside, enjoying the scenery as I spend less time at home. Plus it means more time away from the missus because the worthless cunt can't drive yet. Good Christ I hate that sadistic little dictator; I hope the miserable old hag dies in a ditch.
So it was around 6 or 7pm and I didn't have to be home for another 3 hours, meaning I have some time to kill. This was good, since that was usually enough time to sober up so I could come home without the wife knowing I was out getting plastered out of my mind 4 nights a week. I could go to "Joe's", a small dingy bar in Oakland where I could just kick up and relax. As I stumbled in, I decided to enjoy some of Joe's finest that he freshly brewed in his bath tub earlier this month. You could smell the cleanser he used to wash his bathroom with in the booze. It was enough to make any normal man light-headed, but being as drunk as I was I couldn't notice any difference.
While I was sitting at the counter drinking, a man had the discourtesy to bump into me while he walked by. I told him to watch where he was going, but for some reason he turned around infuriated and started yelling at me. Don't you hate these kinds of people? THEY commit an act of rudeness, and yet they're the victims when you decided to call them out on it. He grabbed me by the collar, but I splashed my beer in his face to get him to let go. Then I remembered the amount of detergent that Joe uses to clean his bathtub, and the man's face started burning intensely. At least that's what I could gauge from looking at the peeling skin and listening to how loud his blood-curdling screams were. Good Christ, he needs to suck it up; I was drinking it earlier. Eventually I wanted to give him something he could really cry about, so I shattered the mug and plunged the mangled handle into his gut as I rammed him out one of the windows. Joe wasn't too happy about that though, so unfortunately that was the last time I was going to taste his delicious bleach booze again.
I drunkenly stumbled through the streets smelling like a pristine bathroom, which didn't exactly make me inconspicuous. I was getting a lot of shady looks from the local neighbors, but none dared approach me. A few pointed at me as I occasionally heard whispers of "He's the one who killed Black Balls" and the like, but I didn't pay much attention to them. Eventually a cop pulled up alongside of me. Before he could say anything, I pulled out my gun and shot the man three times. Why did I have a gun? BECAUSE I'M IN OAKLAND. His cop car was just there, the engine already warmed up with the heat on. I figured driving it was going to be easier than walking, so I thought why the hell not?
Obviously still a bit angry at being banned from Joe's, I had nothing better to do than to head home early. Oh boy oh boy, I can just imagine the glare from the dictator waiting for me when I show up. She wasn't a physically imposing woman in the least; about 5'2" or so, and light enough to hurl across the room. She was oriental, because well that's the primary choice I have out here in the Bay Area. Of course when I open the door there she was, clearly flustered. I let out a sigh as she started yelling at me. Come on, I just got home. I'll explain why there's a cop car parked in our garage in the morning. But not tonight; I wasn't going to be sleeping tonight. She was yelling until she was red in the face, and I didn't know what she was yelling about. Her voice gets high enough that it sounded like a dolphin inhaled helium, so I just kind of give up until she calms down. But this literally went on for hours; us just yelling back and forth at each other. I lost track of what we were actually arguing about in the first place, but all I remember is her mocking my penis size and I called her flat chested.
As I got ready to walk into the bedroom, a shock went throughout my head and a slammed against the wall, shaking a bit. What was this... she threw a potted plant at me. That's... no. Violence is not the answer here. I don't like being assaulted, especially not without my permission first. I regained my footing and tried to make my way into the bedroom, but she grabbed my arm with a certain level of intensity that was unfounded at this point. After being nailed in the back of my head and now this death grip, my composure finally crumbled. I punched her. Right in the face. Not a hook, an actual punch into the center of her face as I literally threw all of my weight into it. Her nose literally exploded from the impact as she stumbled and hit the ground. She started crying as I grimaced and relocated one of my bloody knuckles. I walked over and just started stomping and beating the living hell out of her. I don't really know why, I got my revenge. Maybe it was from all the pent-up rage of our marriage. Maybe it's because we haven't had sex in 5 months, but for some reason I just completely cut loose. By the time I was done, that woman was literally inching closer and closer to death as she loudly sobbed. Good lord, she's acting like she just got raped. She finally passed out, so I carried her to our bed, readjusted her nose and gently embraced her as I fell asleep.
The next morning was pretty normal. The sheets were a bit bloody, but nothing the wash couldn't get rid of. She had a black eye, swollen cheek and a few cracked ribs but she's a tough ol' bird. She sweetly greeted me as I made my way into the kitchen for my morning coffee before I made it to work. We talked about random events while I read the paper, and after a simple peck on the cheek I was off to college. I scratched my side since it was particularly itchy. I lifted my shirt and notice a scar on my abdomen. Apparently after being passed out drunk in bed she stole one of my kidneys. The clever little bitch.
Ah, the joys of being married.
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