Well, I missed it. The finale of it happened and I missed it, thanks to you. I don’t even know if you’re still there, because I’m not turning around yet. Not quite yet. And if you ask yourself why, if there’s room there inside your head for any thought that doesn’t have specifically to do with you … I’m not turning around because you sicken me. That’s why. You piss me off and treat me so badly that I’ve just about had all that I can take. OK? This is a declaration of war, I guess, because I have had my fill. My absolute fill of your shit and your ways. And it comes so naturally to you, that’s what really frightens me. Your ability to hurt and mistreat me, it’s like a part of your makeup. Your very fiber. I bet you’re there, I’m sure you are, you wouldn’t miss a thing like this for the world. This moment. Some second where everyone in the place is twisted around in their seats to see what the hell’s going on under our umbrella. With your sunglasses and piled-up hair and a tan you bought with a coupon book. That’s you. That is my wife and welcome to her. What was it that comedian used to say, that fellow with all the—he’d come onstage and do the wife jokes. Remember? “Take my wife. Please.” Those jokes, that’s what you’ve become to me. A punch line. A mockery of the woman I loved and wedded and slipped off to Venice with in my youth. You are not her. She was swallowed up long ago, devoured by the thing you’ve become. Like one of those monster pictures that I went to as a kid, those Saturday double bills that my parents scooted me off to with friends. You are some fifty-foot woman or two-headed beast that no longer even resembles the woman of my dreams, so I refuse to look at you. I do. And you want to know why? Huh? Because I don’t want to be turned to stone, into a pillar of stone by your Medusa-like stare, that’s why. I’m going to sit here all day and pray that when I swivel back around you’ll be gone. Gone with the car and into a ditch, returned to the womb of that hell from which you crawled. That is my wish. My dream. My desire. Go away now. Go on. Go.

Grand Slam

If she opens her mouth again, I’m gonna fucking kill her. I am.