Dave and the Sociopath

byVandemonium1

A simple case of Heteropaternal superfecundation.

Yet another twisted story from my slightly twisted mind. No, just joking. You will let me know if the noises in my head bother you, won’t you? After publishing a couple of gentle ones, the inner cunt demanded out. Umm, this one is pretty nasty, and definitely not for the faint hearted. If you believe in forgiveness, skip it.  For those that find extreme btb stories therapeutic, this is my gift to you.

My thanks, as always, to my editor and partner in crime CTC. I wish the whole world luck in finding such a love as I have.

++++++++++++++++++++++

“Nice to meet you on such a happy occasion, Mr. Brown. I’m Doctor Simms. I believe you’ve been dealing with Doctor Smith until now. She’s on a sabbatical in Europe at the moment.”

“Pleased to meet you, Doc.”

“Now, Mr. Brown, as our admin told you on the phone, we’ve found a kidney donor with a perfect match. As we couldn’t get hold of you or your wife immediately, we took the liberty of getting your mother to bring your children in already.”

“That’s fantastic news, Doc. I presume the kidney you have will go to Simon?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brown. There seems to have been a misunderstanding. We have two kidneys available from the same donor. We can give both of your sons’ new kidneys today.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, Mr. Brown, the donor is deceased. They died shortly after arriving at the hospital following a road accident not ninety minutes ago. Once we discovered they were a registered organ donor, er, steps were taken to preserve the corpse in such a manner as to maintain the viability of any useful organs. All the signs are good that many, many people will benefit from their death. You have to admire those people that fill out those cards, don’t you? Because of someone’s forethought and selfless actions, the odds are excellent that your twins will be able to lead perfectly normal lives. The hospital administrators have already checked all the paperwork is in order. We just have to wait a few hours until it is safe for your sons to have a general anaesthetic, then we can start.”

“That’s fantastic news, Doc. My wife was having a devil of a time trying to decide which of the kids to donate to. She’ll be ecstatic that’s no longer necessary.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brown, you’ve lost me. I haven’t had time to fully read your file yet.”

“No, it’s me that’s sorry, Doc. I should have realised you didn’t know. When my son, Simon was diagnosed with Lintman’s disease…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brown, I’m not familiar with that one.”

“I’m not surprised, Doc. It’s extremely rare. It’s one of those diseases I jokingly call, lesbian diseases.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry to be offensive, Doc. I mean, one of those diseases that are carried by females but only affect the male offspring. Like haemophilia.”

“Oh, right.”

“Anyway, Lintman’s is so rare that there has been next to no research on a cure. It causes both kidneys to fail at an early age. That, as you know, condemns the sufferer to dialysis several times a week or having to undergo a transplant. Simon’s kidneys failed last year so he was put on the organ donor registry and started dialysis. We got Paul tested and found out that his kidneys were about to fail as well. That happened last month.”

Dave Brown paused to consider the horrible memory of both his sons lying in hospital, hooked up to those infernal machines as their blood was cleansed. He shuddered. That was no life for his precious offspring.

“So, what choice did your wife have, Mr. Brown?”

“Well, we did all the things parents do in these situations, Doc. We had ourselves tested to see if we could donate one of our kidneys to our sons. Neither my wife nor I have any siblings and we only have one parent left each, both too old to donate. Simon and Paul are our only children, so that just left Jane and I.”

“I see, and I gather that only your wife was compatible as a donor.”

“Yes. My blood type is B, Paul’s is Type A and my wife and Simon are Type O, you know, universal donors. So, my kidneys aren’t compatible, but Jane could donate to either.”

Dave paused, wondering how long it would take for it to dawn on the doctor there was a fundamental problem here. From watching his face, he guessed about twenty-five seconds.

“Yes, Doctor, it’s impossible for a Type B father and a Type O mother to have a Type A child, but it is possible to have a Type O child. If you look in your file you will see some DNA test paperwork.”

They were both silent as the surgeon leafed through the thick files. Finally, he finished.

“Oh, my gosh. I’ve heard of this, but never seen it. Heteropaternal superfecundation.”

“Yeah, that’s what our family doctor called it as well. Call me biased, Doc, but I call it something else.”

Dave took the doctor’s raised eyebrow as a sign to keep going.

“I call it, ‘having a slut wife who fucks two men within five days and each of them father one of the twins’ syndrome.’ I’m sorry, Doc, but I only found this out a couple of weeks ago. It’s still a little raw. Yes, I do know that I’m Simon’s biological father but not Paul’s. Discussions are still occurring between myself and Jane, but we decided to shelve the fighting until the kids are healthy again.

“So, going back to your original question, Doc, Neither I nor any living relative can donate a kidney to my children. My wife, Jane, can donate to either child. I got her past her religious beliefs against organ donation, but she has been torn about who to donate to.”

“Religious beliefs?”

“Yes. Jane belongs to one of those minor religious sects that are uncomfortable with transplantation. It was a battle between her pastor and myself that I won eventually.”

“I know what you mean, Mr. Brown. Just this morning a patient was brought in here that was a Jehovah’s Witness. They’d lost a lot of blood but steadfastly refused a blood transfusion. Honestly, in this day and age, no one should die of a broken femur.”

At that moment, their conversation was interrupted by the announcing system.

“Doctor Simms, please report to reception, Doctor Simms.”

“Please excuse me, Mr. Brown, they’re playing my song. Make yourself comfortable until I return.”

++++++++++

While waiting for the surgeon to return, Dave let his mind drift to the absolute disaster his life had become in a few short months. Until late last year, he thought he’d had a happy and contented life. Then, in quick succession, he found out he had first one, then a second, son with a life-threatening illness. At first, he and Jane had stood shoulder to shoulder in adversity, as they’d always done as the loving couple they were. That changed a few weeks ago when Dave was glancing through the children’s files, desperately looking for a solution that didn’t include them being dead or tied to a dialysis machine for god knows how long.

That was when he’d looked at all the blood types with an unblinkered eye and remembered high school science. He’d checked with the family doctor and forgiven him for not bringing it to his attention. He’d contacted Dr. Smith and got her to confirm his fears from the DNA testing. He’d confronted Jane.

Although it wasn’t until after they married that Jane became drawn to god, the religion she was deeply committed to had a lot to say about honesty. When confronted with the irrefutable implication she’d had sex with two men within a short period of time to conceive the nonpaternal twins, she’d tried to convince him there must have been a mix up in the hospital nursery. Dave didn’t have to point out the little tags that were affixed to the twin’s ankles in the delivery room; the same tags that had to be cut off to be removed; were the same two tags they still had in their scrap book. It was obvious Jane was lying through her teeth.

Dave remembered cajoling Jane with increasing aggression until she finally broke down and admitted she’d had sex with an old boyfriend the night before their wedding. Dave was too stunned to even listen to her pleading apologies that it was a one-off, drunken mistake she’d regretted ever since. That it was the core reason she’d got religion, so she could beg the forgiveness from god he was too terrified to ask of her husband. He was in another world when she promised to spend the rest of her life making it up to him.

He was alone inside his own head where treasured memories were sickening and dying all around him. He’d respected Jane’s request that they not see each other for two days before the wedding, thinking it a harmless, cute tradition. He remembered the all-night sex session they’d had on the night of the wedding. Now, he knew she was already pregnant by someone else at the time, the memory was just sickening. All the memories of the jokes they’d made before the twins were born were poison. Their laughter that if they had twin girls, they would name them Honey and Moon to honour when they were conceived. Also consigned to the scrap heap, the tradition of their annual sex fest. When, every year they packed the boys off to a grandparent and he stayed in bed with a wild animal, from the night before their wedding anniversary until sunrise two days later, before returning to their conservative and rather dull sex life for another 363 days. The fact this was the anniversary of his being cuckolded was now apparent to Dave.

They say that Sociopaths are made, not born. Nevertheless, by the time Dave had snapped out of his reverie, one had been born. It was a premature birth and may yet die before it could take many breaths, but it was there in the room where a loving husband and father once sat.

It awoke to a now silent wife. It spread its wings, feasting on a landscape of broken dreams and shattered memories. Love was nowhere in sight.

“Who was it, Jane?”

“I… I’m not going to say, Dave. It’s not important. It happened once, it’s over and I have loved only you for fifteen years. If I tell you, you will do something stupid and end up in prison when the boys and I really need you.”

She kept her new found promise and no amount of threats and talk of guilt would prise the name from her, or indeed, any other details. Dave gave up. The Sociopath looked Dave’s wife in the eye.

“If I ever find out who it was, he’s a dead man, Jane.”

Jane didn’t doubt it.

Although Jane refused to believe it, their marriage was done at that moment. The thought of losing one or both children was bad enough. The thought of losing the only man she’d ever loved was unthinkable. As soon as she was away from the father of one of her twins, she phoned the father of the other, to warn him. From that point on, Jane’s life had three foci. Nurturing her sons, making peace with her god, and frantically trying to make peace with her husband. With no god and a clear conscience, Dave had only one focus. That included pretending things were normal until the boy’s physical health was assured.

The three-week old sociopath awoke and looked around the austere, utilitarian office. It smiled at the memory of how easy it had been. He’d simply waited until his wife collapsed, exhausted from crying, then looked at her cell phone call log. One call, twelve minutes after Dave stormed out that day, to another cell. Thus began the Sociopath’s hunt for Dave’s nemesis. The family address book revealed nothing. Bizarrely, a fridge magnet and Jane’s old high school yearbooks supplied the answer. Any doubt what the phone call was about was quashed by other clues that seemed harmless when presented at the time. The reason their family doctor hadn’t brought any discrepancies on blood types to Dave’s attention was that he was the perpetrator of the atrocity. Finding him as one of Jane’s old classmates, just sealed it. The cold, calculating Sociopath, supplied the plan from there.

To an outside observer, such as Jane’s father or Dave’s mother, the next two weeks were nothing special. The twins felt loved and cherished. But when they were alone, Dave ignored Jane’s pleas for forgiveness while he did everything he could to ease his children’s suffering. The Sociopath plotted. While Dave begged Jane to ignore her religious beliefs and agree to donate one of her healthy kidneys to either child, the Sociopath bought a pistol, edited recordings, and learned how to steal cars.

The two weeks were obviously torture for Jane. Dave lost count of the times she repeated that it was a one-off drunken mistake that she deserved forgiveness for. It was exactly the same number of times he told her that, until she gave him the name and he had restitution, he couldn’t forgive her. The first few times, Jane stuck to the story she didn’t want to lose Dave to prison but that story changed one day. Abruptly, the admission became she had begged the other sperm donor to come clean, but he was married himself now and was threatening her if she exposed him. Exactly what he was threatening, Jane again refused to be drawn on. Dave, the man, desperately wanted her to come clean, so he had some small chance of maintaining his marriage. The Sociopath, with whom Dave was constantly battling for supremacy, already had a name but wasn’t quite ready to act. When she couldn’t get the forgiveness she craved from home and husband, she threw herself into her religion. Subsequently, Dave thought she was neglecting her children.

The Sociopath in the hospital office reflected on his actions of a week ago. He’d spent a week staking out his nemesis’s place of business, noting that he commonly stayed for an hour after his receptionist went home. It was a Friday when the Sociopath acted. Walking in the unlocked door of the family surgery, he strode straight into the doctor’s office. The medico leapt to his feet at the surprise intruder. His stance relaxed slightly when he saw it was just Dave. A man smaller and slighter than himself. Past memories caused the doctor’s face to relax into an expression that was half smile, half sneer.

He was wrong, Dave was not in the room.

The uncivilised man leapt. Rage gave his fist strength as it crashed into the side of the doctor’s jaw. The knee into the face of the stooping man wasn’t strictly speaking necessary but was satisfying none-the-less. Stomping on the prone guy’s left knee was justified to immobilise him until their conversation was over. With the Sociopath’s basal desire to hurt this man satisfied, Dave crept into the room. The now normal battle for supremacy of their shared body ensued, while they both waited for their former respected family doctor to rouse.

Two things stopped the medico leaping to his feet when he fully awoke. One was the intense pain in his knee. The other was the sight of a pissed off patient pointing a pistol at him. Being basically a physical coward, all the fight left him before he’d expelled the gasp he’d drawn on seeing the gun.

“Don’t kill me, they were Jane’s idea.”

Dave was confused. In his mind, he’d only wanted to know how hard his future wife had resisted the time this predator had seduced her on the night before the wedding. Knowing how sexually repressed his wife was most of the time, he knew she must have been conned by a master.

“Tell me how you did it?”

Suspecting that the longer he talked, the longer he lived, the cowering coward spilled the whole plate of beans.

“I was her first love and she was mine. We dated for a while in high school. I took her cherry.”

This wasn’t unexpected. Dave and Jane hadn’t talked about their previous experiences. The medic still had a tone of panic in his voice as he continued.

“I didn’t see her again after I went away to England to med school. That is, until I saw her out with her girlfriends the night before her wedding. I couldn’t help myself. I cut her out from the pack and made a play. She was drunk. I took her back to my place about ten o’clock that night and fucked her raw.”

Dave couldn’t describe the sense of relief he felt. This was better than he’d ever expected. The medico misinterpreted Dave’s facial expression changes. He suddenly realised that in his panic, he’d said things that reduced his chances of surviving this confrontation. He had to either paint himself in a better light or smear the mud around, and he had to do it fast.

“We fell asleep and woke up about 4:00a.m. By that time the alcohol should have well and truly worn off. She fucked me for another hour before sneaking off back to her parent’s house.”

Dave absorbed this additional information, desperately trying to decide if Jane was still off the hook or not. The panic-stricken, recumbent victim of his assault, filled the ensuing silence. Without having time to think, he decided complete honesty was the best policy.

“The next year was all Jane’s idea though.”

“What?”

“Yeah, a couple of days before your first anniversary, she rang me wanting to get together again the afternoon of your anniversary. Jane and I spent all afternoon fucking. She said it was so hot the previous year when she got to fuck two guys in twenty-four hours, that she wanted a repeat. We’ve done it every year since then. Just once a year, mind you. She jokingly calls it her once a year, three-hour sabbatical. Now, she just texts me the one word, ‘sabbatical’ and I text her back where and when. She told me the whole thing is very erotic. She’s super turned on when she’s with me because of the anticipation of doing you straight afterwards. Then she’s super turned on with you because of the memories of me that day. Whatever, it’s the best sex I get all year I can tell you.”

Shattered, Dave fled the room. Unfortunately for the doctor, the Sociopath remained. He used Dave’s memories to remember every one of the thirteen anniversaries, and his wife’s uncharacteristic wanton behaviour. He remembered last year when it fell on a Sunday and Jane had spent the morning ‘shopping with friends’. In Dave’s absence, the Sociopath knew what to do. He reverted to the plan.

“Are you willing to donate one of your kidneys to my son Paul or do I have to remove it from your corpse?”

The prone man saw death in the eyes of the man standing with the pistol, who he mistakenly thought was called Dave. In the clarity that sometimes comes in these situation, he thought quickly and replied.

“I can’t. I lived in the UK for more than six months back in the nineties. Because of the risk of BSE, I can’t be on the register, I can’t even donate blood.”

He saw hope fading in the eyes above him. That was when he shut his eyes as the madman raised the pistol and aimed it right between his eyes. The report, when it came, was deafening. When he dared to open his eyes again, Dave was kneeling at his side, staring in his eyes.

“Today is not your day to die. Your day will come, but not until I know Simon and Paul no longer need me to fight for them. Run away, dead man. When this is all over, I will find you and I will kill you. Your time will come quicker if you go to the police or have any contact with Dave’s wife. Don’t bother trying to take your wife with you. By tomorrow she will have an edited copy of the recording I’ve been making since I got here.”

With that, he removed the recorder from his pocket and turned it off. Even in his terror, the medic thought something about the last monologue was very strange. Why had he called Jane, ’Dave’s wife’? He WAS Dave. Things may have been clearer if he’d heard the Dave composite, arguing with himself as he left the building.

“Shit, I’m glad I convinced you to only load blanks.”

“Prick. I wanted to see his brains smeared on the carpet. Now go away, you’ll only hold me back for the next bit.”

+++++++++++++

The Sociopath looked over at Dave sitting in the vacant surgeon’s chair and thought back with the pride of a job well done.

Its mental assault on the creature, who he refused to call ‘wife’ any longer, began this morning when his wife was attending her church and involved all his electronic and, er, more recently acquired skills. The first task was to hijack the public-address system the pastor was using to preach to the congregation. It was a simple sound file of Jane’s easily recognisable voice. A compilation of several of her impassioned speeches interspersed with some of her lover’s voice. Suddenly booming from the speakers was,

“Yes, I admit it. I had sex with a man other than you the night before our wedding, but I had no idea he fathered one of our children… I swear to god it was a one off and I haven’t been with him since.”

After a short pause, her lover’s voice continued.

“Yeah, a couple of days before your first anniversary, she rang me wanting to get together again the afternoon of your anniversary. Jane and I spent all afternoon fucking. She said it was so hot the previous year when she got to fuck two guys in twenty-four hours that she wanted a repeat. We’ve done it every year since then. Just once a year, mind you. She jokingly calls it her once a year, three-hour sabbatical. Now, she just texts me the one word, ‘sabbatical’ and I text her back where and when. She told me the whole thing is very erotic. She’s super turned on when she’s with me because of the anticipation of doing you straight afterwards. Then she’s super turned on with you because of the memories of me that day.”

Both inputs then began repeating themselves in a loop.

He didn’t see it, of course, but could well imagine the stares of the other members of the congregation. Members who had a dim view of infidelity and an extremely dim view of taking the lord’s name in vain. All he knew was that within a minute of the interruption, Jane sprinted from the hall to her car. He wondered where she would go. Not home to the obvious source of the broadcast. The Sociopath followed in his stolen car, wearing his disposable coveralls, hair net, and protective gloves.

Luckily, she sped to one of the places of refuge the Sociopath had predicted. Her widowed father’s house. The screech of tyres brought the old man to his front door. The Sociopath waited until father and daughter hugged before pressing play on the second tape. The one that broadcast from a speaker attached to the chassis of Jane’s car.

“Yes, I admit it. I had sex with a man other than you the night before our wedding… I swear on my mother’s grave it was just the once and I’ve been faithful to you ever since.”

This was followed by the now familiar,

“Yeah, a couple of days before your first anniversary, she rang me wanting to get together again the afternoon of your anniversary. Jane and I spent all afternoon fucking. She said it was so hot the previous year when she got to fuck two guys in twenty-four hours that she wanted a repeat…”

Recounting the rest would be a waste of time, as by this stage, Jane had thrown up her hands in horror and was sprinting away from what should have been a safe haven. The Sociopath couldn’t read her father’s expression from that distance. Dave would have felt much empathy for the old man, but Dave wasn’t there. The Sociopath didn’t have a clue what empathy was. He was focused on the job in hand, technically it was quite difficult.

Jane was sitting in her car with her fingers in her ears. The Sociopath’s fingers flew over the laptop to turn on the stereo system he’d secreted in the dashboard of Jane’s car. He turned the volume up remotely. It would take half an hour, or the complete destruction of the dashboard, to find the speaker. The quickest way to get peace would have been to disable the iPads and amplifiers in the spare wheel well, but you’d have to know about them first.

Jane started the engine and roared off through her father’s quiet neighbourhood. The external speaker was broadcasting a different message than the internal one. The former was blaring to the world that the driver of the car cheated on her fiancé the night before the wedding and continued to do so afterwards.

The internal soundtrack was aimed at Jane’s very soul. It was a compilation of her denials of continued infidelity over the last three weeks, interspersed with commentary from her lover. Commentary that ended abruptly with a gunshot and then silence. Even if Jane’s conscience could handle her long-term betrayal, the implication that her actions had turned her husband into a killer and led to her lover’s death, would be devastating.

Of course, that relied on her lover’s fear causing him not to contact her in the last week. Dave’s research indicated the lover had up and disappeared, leaving no trace of his whereabouts, even to his wife.

Jane made two blocks, before she came up with the idea of using the car’s stereo system to drown out both speakers. Unfortunately, the Sociopath had thought of that a week before. A third soundtrack began. Following, the Sociopath could see Jane’s head snapping from side to side as she passed pedestrians. The stolen car followed her as she took the quickest route to the highway.

+++++++++++++

Both Dave’s and the Sociopath’s reverie was interrupted by the return of Doctor Simms.

“Terribly sorry, Mr. Brown, but the donor donated all their organs, so recipients are turning up from all over the place. It’s going to be a busy couple of days.”

“That’s fine, Doc. I think we were almost finished here anyway. I’d like to go and see my boys soon, but I have a request first.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I’d like to personally thank the donor.”

“Hmmm, yes, that request isn’t unusual. We normally allow that, but usually before the process has gone this far.”

“It is very important to me, Doc.”

“Okay, I’ll just clear it with admin.”

At that, Dr. Simms picked up the phone and spoke for about two minutes.

“That’s fine, Mr. Brown. I’ll take you there now. I suggest we be quick; they’ll be putting the first of your sons under in about half an hour.”

With that they strode to the surgical suite. On the way, Dave’s phone rang. He answered and listened for a moment.

“Yes, Officer, I assume you’re calling to tell me to go to the hospital. I already heard and am here now. Thank you and goodbye.”

Once at their destination, Dr. Simms outfitted the visitor in a gown and mask, explaining while he did, that organ removal had already started, but the surgical team were taking a break. He went on to caution him not to approach too closely as he wasn’t sterile. He honoured the request for a few minutes alone and waited outside the door, looking to see that the strange man didn’t faint, despite the body having been left partially draped. Not many people outside a hospital can stand to see a semi dissected cadaver so the surgical team had disguised their handiwork as best they could.

Both eyes were shut, and the doctor knew this was because they had been removed already for corneal transplant. A sheet covered the chest area to hide the fact the heart and lungs had already been harvested. In fact, about the only internal organs left awaiting removal were the liver and pancreas. The phone call had confirmed that skin and bone marrow removal hadn’t yet begun which is why Dave was able to see the hand and forearm closest to him.

To the Sociopath she looked asleep and more at peace than she’d been for weeks. He wasn’t sure he was happy about that.

Dr. Simms was watching the silent tableau through the glass when a frantic hospital administrator came through the outer doors.

“Don’t let him in there. It’s his wife!”

The good doctor looked through the glass at a man that must have known by now who he was looking at. He’d certainly had plenty of time to faint from the disturbing sight.

“You know, I don’t think that will be a problem. He is by far the coldest man I’ve ever met.”

Inside the room, the Sociopath was talking to what remained of Dave’s wife.

“Dave wants to thank you for jumping out of your car on the highway and getting hit. He would have felt bad if I’d had to run you down. He was very disappointed that you refused to donate one of your kidneys to either of your sons. I’m certainly not sorry for tricking you into signing the organ donor form in the guise of something for your sons’ treatment. Dave also wants to thank you for the donation of a quick, easy separation, with all the family’s assets going to him.

I’m a little sorry, but only for Dave’s sake, that I had to kill you. You were a good wife and mother most of the time, but I couldn’t stand to see you treat such a good man with absolute contempt once a year for each of your thirteen years together. So, in balance, goodbye, bitch and may your god forgive you for what you did.”

At that, point the Sociopath took his leave so that Dave could say his goodbyes.

“Goodbye, Jane. I’m sorry for my friend’s behaviour, but after I found out what you did, well, I just wasn’t strong enough to oppose him. The final straw was you refusing to give either of our children a chance of a normal life. That, if nothing else, was unforgivable. When I saw them sitting in that room, tied to those dialysis machines, I just snapped and gave him carte blanche. I promise to raise them with the core values that I believe, and you appeared to believe, 364 days a year. It doesn’t matter that Paul isn’t really mine, I will treat him exactly the same as Simon. Don’t worry, I’ll never tell him what really happened; that way he can preserve the cherished memory he has of you. I wish I could have done the same. I will tell them they have your kidneys, though. It may give them some comfort that they’ll always carry around a part of you. I’ll look after your Dad as well.”

Dave was crying as he exited the room to go and comfort his sons. Dr. Simms was relieved he was finally showing some human emotion.  

Epilogue

Jane’s lover’s wife visited Dave several days later. She told him her husband had confessed the story to her and then run. She felt she and her children needed some sort of relationship with her soon-to-be ex and wanted to know when it would be safe for him to reappear. Dave assured her he was no longer a threat.

Dave delayed the funeral of Jane until Simon and Paul were well enough to leave the hospital. They were robust boys and the close genetic match of their mother’s kidneys maximised the chances of complete success. Dave’s mother and Jane’s father took the children, leaving Dave alone by the graveside.

Or so they thought.

“Get in that fucking hole!”

“No way. I’m not sharing eternity with that slut.”

“Don’t you dare call my wife and the mother of my children a slut.”

“I’m sorry, Dave. Why can’t I hang around for a while, I could be useful.”

“I want nothing more to do with you, you’re an animal. So, jump in that hole or go somewhere else, I don’t care. Just stay away from me, all right?”

Dave looked into the forlorn face of the Sociopath and felt his soft heart weaken. He put his hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Look, I’m really grateful for what you did, okay? It’s just that I can’t have you around for the next phase, all right? The boys need the loving, supportive me, not you. Plus, you’ll only get in the way when I start dating again. You just don’t have the right skill set.”

“Okay, Dave. Thanks for letting me out. It’s been very liberating.”

They stared at each other uncomfortably for a few seconds, then shook hands. Dave turned away, to be the best father he could possibly be and, who knows, maybe a loving husband again someday.

The End

Many of my stories portray a good man being pushed over the edge to behave out of character. Comments on previous stories have shown me I’ve been too subtle in the past. So, with this one I’ve tried to be less ambiguous. At the risk of copping the usual, “If you have to explain the story afterwards, it wasn’t very good”, which, frankly, is getting very boring, I have to cater for a whole range of readers, therefore there are times I feel the need to explain. Past comments have proven to me that readers span a wide variety of intelligence and perception, each bringing their own personal history and/or baggage to a story.

Dave and the Sociopath share a body but are two separate mental entities. It happens.

For anyone that’s interested, I have Type O negative blood. I’d just made the universal donor’s register when the local Red Cross announced that because I’d lived in the UK for 11 months in the 90’s, I could be carrying BSE—Mad Cow’s Disease—so couldn’t donate. What a load of crap. Mooooohahahaha.

The composite Dave character is based on a driller I worked with last summer. He was a brilliant driller, but the reports from his workmates were disturbing. They told me he had an imaginary dog and an imaginary offsider. I didn’t believe them until I drove up to his workplace one day and he was outside the cab of his machine, berating someone for drilling a hole 300mm away from the point painted on the ground.

He and I were the only people in the quarry.

A week later, he stopped in at my office to hand in his paperwork before heading off for the weekend. As he left my office he was talking to someone I couldn’t see.  I watched him walk around his truck and hold the passenger door open, as if for a lady to get in. He shut the door after saying quite clearly, “You’re welcome.” I was glad he had a date for the weekend.

The world is full of really interesting people.

If that wasn’t funny enough, here goes. An aboriginal station (ranch) hand seeks out the white owner of the sheep station.

“Hey boss, I’ve got a question for you.”

“Yes, what is it.”

“I’m black right, and my wife is black as well. She just had a baby and it’s white. Can you explain how that happened?”

The station owner immediately becomes nervous and after much throat clearing, begins to reply.

“Look over there. What do you see? 10,000 white sheep. Now look over there. 500 white rams. Most of the lambs born are white as well, but every now and then you get a black one. Nature is like that.”

The station hand ruminates on this for a couple of minutes before speaking again.

“I’ll make you a deal, boss. I’ll leave your sheep alone if you leave my wife alone.”