OUTSURANCE

Written by SemperAmare

We think this one has a new discovery method but I’m sure you’ll tell us if we’re wrong.

This one started as Cliché 5, written by myself, but when I gave it to my wife, lover, partner in crime, and all-round beautiful person, she thought it was original enough to not deserve the title. And she was right, once she wielded her magic on it, it became so much better than the original and hence the authorship changed.  

Again, we urge you not to believe the dismal Jimmies here who say everything has been done. Put finger to keyboard and ‘have a go’ as we say in Terra Australis.

V1.

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If I’d known that today would be the last normal day in my life for many months to come, I might have made more effort to stop and smell the roses.

It was near 3:00 p.m. when my secretary came into my office to say there was a man to see me. I stood and walked around my desk as she led him in, but he ignored my outstretched hand. Well, ignored it for a handshake. He took advantage of my stance to thrust an A4 envelope into it with the words, ‘You’ve been served’.

I may have been shocked into silence, but I’m not naïve; I’d read enough cheating wife stories to think I knew what was going on. Wife falls in love with another guy, or gal, falls out of love with the husband, and sneaks around behind his back. Prepares, plots, schemes, and betrays, until the hammer falls on the unsuspecting hubby.

I just couldn’t believe it applied to my wife. Sure, after almost twenty-five years of marriage we weren’t starry-eyed in love like we used to be, but what couples were after a quarter of a century together? I did think, however, that starry eyes and unbridled lust had been replaced by a deep-down respect and companionable friendship. That our inferno had mellowed to a warm, toasty fire. I thought she loved being the doesn’t-have-to-work wife of a successful businessman, enjoying her roles in various church groups, being the chairwoman of our local school board, as well as having her finger in many other local society events.

I stared down at the envelope, stunned, and asked myself why. Nothing came to mind. She’d given absolutely no clues she was unhappy with me. Knew me well enough to know if she had a problem, any problem, she could come to me and discuss it rationally and calmly. Yes, I’d noticed she was a little worried looking in the last couple of days and refused to be drawn on what was on her mind, but she certainly hadn’t acted like she was going to cut me off at the knees anytime soon.

Neither was it like she thought I was having a hot and heavy affair and was taking advantage of our recent empty nest status to dump me. I am and always have been a one-woman man and have never strayed, not even once, from our marriage vows, even though my secretary once told me in all seriousness that had I been single I’d be considered quite the catch. When I travel, which is extensively and on my own, I have plenty of opportunities. Opportunities I have never availed myself of, so I discounted that immediately. Besides, with my wife’s legendary Irish temper, if she’d caught me cheating, she’d have been wearing my gonads as a necklace five minutes later.

I realised I was procrastinating. Delaying the moment my world was officially destroyed. Despite my realisation another minute passed as I stared at the envelope. Finally, one deep breath later, I tore at the edge of the package and pulled out the thick wad of papers. Reading the top, a huge sigh of relief escaped me. The letter wasn’t headed, ‘Petition For The Dissolution Of Marriage’ as I’d anticipated but for something else I was being sued for.

I mentally kicked myself for doubting my wife’s love and fidelity, vowing to pick her up a huge bouquet of flowers on the way home and maybe take her out somewhere fancy.

Still shaking with relief, I walked around my desk and allowed myself to fall into my chair to read the document properly.

What the fuck! It wasn’t the business being sued, as I expected, but our homeowner’s insurance policy. I was being sued on behalf of some idiot called Simon Rogers who had apparently fallen down my stairs four days ago and suffered injuries serious enough as to still be in hospital. The cover letter went on to say I was being sued for medical costs, loss of earnings, as well as pain and suffering. Let’s just say that the amount the guy was seeking was enough to fund a minor third world country for a while.

I leaned back in my chair as I looked at the statements that accompanied the letter from Simon’s ambulance chaser, a little confused by the whole thing. I only noted three things from the statements.

Firstly, Mr. Simon Rogers had been visiting my wife, Jennifer Brown, at the time the accident happened, the accident being him falling down the stairs after tripping on a protruding nail on the top landing.

Secondly, this incident had occurred on a day I’d been out of town.

And, thirdly, the time of the incident was 5:00 a.m. Just before dawn at this time of year.

I leaned back even further in my chair as I recalled the layout of my house. There was only one set of stairs on the entire property, those running from the ground floor to the first. From the living parts of the house to the bedrooms. Only bedrooms were upstairs. There was a downstairs toilet so that nixed needing to use one of the upstairs bathrooms.

I was struck dumb once again as within the space of ten minutes I’d gone from thinking my wife was cheating, to being embarrassed and ashamed about not giving her the benefit of the doubt, to knowing what I now know. Some guy I didn’t know fell down the stairs from our house’s bedrooms in the early hours of the morning when my wife was home alone. Or not alone, as it turned out.

The memory of how I felt mere minutes ago when I thought I’d unjustly accused Jennifer of cheating stayed any further thoughts about possibilities for the moment. I needed facts and the packet told me which hospital the answers could be found in. Telling my secretary I’d be out for the rest of the day, I headed to the hospital, via picking up a gift basket of fruit. By the time I arrived my rampant emotions were back under control… for the moment.

It was visiting hours and the staff at the nurse’s station were very helpful, pointing me to the right ward. It was a two-person room with only one current occupant. I turned on the voice recorder app on my phone, slipped it into my top pocket, and opened the door.

Simon Rogers, from what I could see under the bandages, traction devices, and plaster casts, was considerably younger, taller, more muscled, and fitter than me. He idly glanced at me entering his room, looked a little confused for a few seconds, then his eyes opened wide as he either recognised me or put two and two together. I leaned toward the former because he had that slack-faced look of the not-too-bright and there was certainly no shortage of photos of every member of our family throughout the house. He did what was probably the slowest lunge in history, his target the nurse call button. It must have hurt but his pain was for nothing. I beat him to it by about two minutes and placed it well out of his reach.

He now knew why I was here and how helpless he was. I deliberately let my eyes travel ever so slowly over all the wires and contraptions holding him in place, or torture devices as we both knew they were. He cast one more longing glance at the well-out-of-reach nurse call button and mentally collapsed.

“I’m sorry, man, real sorry. What do you want to know?”

“How long have you been fucking my wife, Jenny Brown?”

“About six months,” he admitted quietly. I was stunned. Six months and I didn’t have a clue. It lined up well with our empty nest though.

“Who came onto who?”

“I came onto her. I’m the janitor at the school where she is a board member.” An embarrassed look came over his face. “I’ve got a… um, thing for older women, you know, especially ones as well put together as your old lady, I mean…”

He stopped talking real fast as my hand grabbed one of the wires attached to his leg. He pleaded with his eyes, realising he’d elaborated too much.

“Once you started chasing her, how long did it take to get her into bed?”

“About two weeks, I reckon. Yeah, about two weeks.”

I stayed silent. With some people, it is best to just stop talking and they keep going to fill the uncomfortable gap. He was obviously, ‘some people’.

“I mean, she let me know she was hot to trot pretty much straight away, then it took about another week or so for her to get me to understand and accept her rules, and then, um…”

“Yes?”

“Another week for you to go out of town on business.”

At last he stopped yabbering and in the silence that followed I settled on the next question.

“You mentioned rules just then.”

“Yeah, man. She had a bunch of them. About twenty rules I wasn’t allowed to break. There was one…, hang on, pass my phone, she texted them to me so I wouldn’t forget any.” I handed him his phone from the bedside table. He unlocked it, found a text thread, scrolled to near the top, and handed it to me. The first thing I noticed was that the number the texts came from wasn’t my wife’s regular number. A burner phone I suspect, probably kept in the safe I didn’t have the combination to. The safe the ‘school insisted’ she not let me see inside of.

There were Jenny’s rules, all neatly laid out in her distinctive language.

• No public displays of affection or even acknowledging each other’s existence in public. If you see me at the school, just keep walking.
• You will furnish me with a clear STD test before our first time.
• We will just be having sex, not making love, no affection, no kissing, just sex.
• We will only ever meet at my house when my husband is away on an overnight trip, and then only after I confirm he’s where he says he is. I don’t want him ringing the landline with me not there, it might take some explaining.

That explained why, when I was away on business, I was expected to use the hotel phone to call our house landline between 8.30 and 9.30 p.m. Jenny’s reasoning for insisting on a landline call? Because, according to her, long phone calls on cell phones were linked to brain cancer.

• You will always supply and wear condoms. You’ll bring a new, unopened box of five every time.

Five? Holy shit! When was the last time we’d had sex five times in a session? Had we ever? I looked at the man in the bed, bandaged and in traction. What was he? A machine?

I continued reading.

• I will witness you breaking the seal and also you flushing all five of them before you leave, used or unused. I’ll need to account for every piece of wrapper before you flush them. You’ll even wear one for oral sex.

Relief flooded me, leaving me feeling sick. I should not be feeling relieved that my wife may not have had sex five times in a session with her stud.

The five condom rule threw me so I read over the rules to that point again. What can I say? Wow! It looked like Jenny had read every Loving Wives story she could find and covered every discovery method she found. I kept reading the sickeningly logical text. It read like a vacation-planning or shopping To Do List rather than a lust-filled missive between potential lovers.

• You will park your car at the supermarket carpark three blocks from my house. I’ll text you the earliest time you can come, which will be at least an hour after dark. You will walk from the carpark and enter by the back gate; I’ll leave a door open for you. If there is anyone in the lane behind the house, you just keep walking.
• You will leave at least an hour before dawn by the same route. If for some reason we sleep in, I’ll tell you when and how you leave.
• If I break off with you, you’ll agree to leave me immediately with no further contact. If you object at the time, I’ll guarantee you’ll lose that crappy job of yours within the week.

I skim read another dozen or so secondary rules then handed him back the phone after forwarding the text to my number.

“Wow, very thorough, very logical. Bit cold, though.”

“Yeah, too cold. I told her that kissing and snuggling was important to me in a relationship. She said we weren’t’ going to be having a relationship. Just sex. It was a package deal, take it or leave it. I told her I would leave it.”

“And yet there you were, six months later.”

“Yeah, well, your wife is very persuasive. I texted her ‘no deal’ and she came down to the basement at school where my workshop is the very next day and locked the door. She said something like, ‘A few rules aren’t worth these?’, she dropped her dress, stepped out of it, and pulled her bra and panties off. She grabbed a tit in each hand, stepped into me and started rubbing them all over my face, shoving them in my mouth. ‘Or this, she said’, she was naked apart from her shoes and sat on a desk I was repairing, leaned back, and spread her legs. Man, I can’t believe that pussy has had two kids.”

I swallowed my revulsion at the crudeness. I didn’t let on that Jenny had insisted on two caesareans with the best surgeon money could buy, telling me at the time it was so she could maintain her tightness, and leave her with the bare minimum of scarring.

“She’s clean shaven, as, um, you would know, man,” Simon said, having the decency to look a little embarrassed but that didn’t stop the eagerness lacing his words. “And, um, she was obviously as wet as. I mean she was dripping. I almost burst through my zipper.”

Again, I had to rein in my revulsion at having my wife spoken of like a cheap slut. From his words, she clearly was a cheap slut but over twenty-five years of love is hard to turn off.

“When I didn’t immediately agree to her rules, she pulled out the last stop. ‘Or this?’ She turned and grabbed something out of her handbag. It turned out to be a biggish black butt plug. She bent over my workbench and shoved it up her own ass like a pro. She wasn’t an anal virgin by a long shot.”

That revelation hit hard, and I winced.

“I’m sorry, man. I really am. But, well, anyways, she then, um, pumped it in and out a couple of times. Sexy as, I mean, she must have lubed herself up before she came down. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t say no. Not to that. I just nodded at her and tried to grab the dildo. She pushed me away, got dressed, said, ‘You know the rules, I’ll text’, then she was gone. Two days later I got the call, and we had our first session.”

I was stunned by all this information. I couldn’t believe he was talking about the person I knew as my wife. Jenny, who revelled in foreplay, who thought doing it doggy was the height of kinky sex. In desperation, I asked another question.

“Where is Jenny’s tattoo and what is it of?”

“A shamrock, left, sorry, right ass cheek.”

I knew my marriage was over, had known before I even walked into the hospital, but I didn’t have enough data to decide exactly how over it was.

“So, did you get to use all three of her holes?”

He looked scared and his eyes darted to the wires I could pull to inflict agony.

“Don’t worry, Simon, if you answer with absolute honesty, after all, you don’t know how much I already know, I promise to leave you intact.”

I meant this. The guy had obviously suffered enough physical pain. The stairs had done an excellent job of beating him up. Better than I could have done. By his choice of words and manner of speaking, it was clear he wasn’t that bright and had jumped at an opportunity he wasn’t strong enough to resist. Still, his answer was a whisper.

“Yeah, all three.”

I looked at Simon. Sure he was younger and fitter but Jenny was smart and Simon clearly wasn’t. How could she stand to have a conversation with him? Oh, that’s right. She only wanted him for sex. To blow him. Give him her ass. That rankled. I couldn’t believe it. My last blowjob had been a month after the wedding and the one time I requested anal sex the entire house was an icebox for a month. I forged on.

“And you always wore rubbers?”

“For the first month or so, yes. After that she told me if I got tested every four weeks, I could fuck her without a rubber so she could swallow my load. She said she loved that. She also obviously had a thing about the feel of my cum dripping out of her ass after anal. I gotta tell you, she went wild for that.”

I stood silently, sickened, absorbing the information that my wife wasn’t anything like the woman I thought she was. Wisely, Simon shut the fuck up as well. Minutes passed before I could frame my next question.

“How often?”

“Every time you went out of town, I reckon. Two or three times every trip, except when your youngest kid was home on school holidays.”

Fuck! That could have been a dozen times in all. Visions, I didn’t want to see tried to push themselves into my brain. I resisted. Time for that later.

“Why sue me and let the cat out of the bag? Medicare should cover everything.”

“This lawyer came in the day after I woke up from my induced coma. Said Medicare would only cover the basic stuff. An old push wheelchair if I never walk again, no carer if I’m crippled.”

His voice shook as he uttered those words and his eyes watered up. Yes, he was very possibly paying a high price for fucking my wife.

“She said if I sued you, I’d be set for life. Besides, I’ve blown all my sick leave.”

“How come?”

“Jenny kept me up all night sometimes. It was like she had no off button. I was often just too tired to go to work, so I called in sick.”

I absorbed that fresh, disgusting tidbit. Who was this woman? The woman who had birthed my children?

“But to sue me you need to prove negligence on my part.”

“Yeah, well, I think I tripped over a protruding nail on the top step. I’d seen it there before and offered to bang it in, Jenny said no, said it might give away that someone who could fix things had been there.”

I mentally acknowledged how smart my wife had been but was a little confused. Jenny had asked me to bang in that nail last month, and I had. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. I just hadn’t realised how ‘happy’ she was.

“Does she know you’re suing me?”

“Not that I know. She called an ambulance when I fell down the steps and fretted the whole time they were there. I heard her telling a neighbour she’d heard me hit by a car on the road outside your place and called in the emergency. She didn’t come with me in the ambulance, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

We chatted for another twenty minutes or so before the nurse came in and gave him some pain meds. After he took them, I actually wished him well. His promise to leave married women alone from now on I believed thoroughly. I’d been young, dumb, and full of cum at one time in my life as well. Thank Christ, I’d grown out of young. One out of three ain’t bad, is it?

It was still an hour before I usually returned home so I drove to my favourite local park, via grabbing a good quality cigar from my local tobacconist. Jenny hated me smoking anything but the way I felt right now, she could go fuck herself… again. I sat at a park bench, lit up, and enjoyed the hell out of it. From now on, I promised myself, I’m going to do more of the things I like to do. Screw always putting others’ wants before my own.

Simon’s revelations explained why Jenny seemed so stressed and worried. Why she didn’t want to talk about it. As soon as I returned home from the trip she’d told me the ambulance story, but she must be living in terror of one of the neighbours telling me they’d actually seen the ambos entering the house or that Simon’s accident would otherwise reveal her dirty secrets.

With that out of the way, I pondered what to do about my marriage. It took all of fifteen seconds to decide it was dead. Stone dead. That realisation was actually quite liberating. It also allowed me to decide what to do about it all. I’m no lawyer but I’m pretty sure I’ll end up paying her a crap load of money to fuck off out of my life and a hefty allowance to keep her in the style to which she’d become accustomed. Unfair, but the Family Court is what it is. I wouldn’t be the first husband they fucked over, nor the last.

I wouldn’t physically hurt her, not for any particular ethical reason but just because she wasn’t worth going to prison over. After what she’d done, not just to me, but our family, she wasn’t worth pissing on.

That, to my mind, only left humiliation. Returning some of the feelings Simon’s revelations had inflicted on me. Jenny’s social standing was the most important thing in her world. In the past that had amused me. I’d always indulged her. I’d never commented or teased but what other people think of me has never mattered to me. To me, a reliance on the acceptance and approval of others was tantamount to enslaving myself to them. Jenny was built differently, though. And I had accepted that. I’d always tried to create an environment for her that protected her from her weakness.

Now, I intended to use my knowledge against her. My revealing her behaviour to a select few of her friends, family, and associates would be devastating for her.

What the hell, I’d never done things by half measure, why start now? ALL her friends, family, and associates would get to see the real Jennifer Brown.  

At my usual hour, I went home. Yes, I got in trouble for the cigar. Yes, I was told I would be punished by missing out on my conjugal rights for the next week. Excellent! One week sorted, five to go.

SIX WEEKS LATER

The catering for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary was lavish and expensive. Ah well, less dollars to share out.

I’d had my specialists check Simon’s injuries out and give a more realistic quote on the costs of rehabilitation and physio and whatnot. With that information, my insurance company made him an offer that he accepted. The last time I’d seen him he still hadn’t heard hide nor hair from Jenny. If I was thinking kindly of her, I’d say she’d been honest with him about it only being sex, but, shit, the guy was a cripple and she clearly didn’t give a shit.

Talking of Jenny. She was in her element tonight. She was like a bee flitting from flower to flower. The belle of the ball. Of the eleven members of her extended family present, she had the finest house and loved showing it off. Something else I’d indulged her over the years. You’d think she had achieved it on her own rather than by my endeavours. In recent weeks I’d come to realise how little acknowledgement she’d given me over the years. She had a habit of multiplying her contributions to our life and minimising mine. Funny the things you notice when the filter of love is removed.

I looked around at the attendees. Every other member of the school board except one was there plus most of the senior members of staff. Our priest and the local bishop joined fifteen other senior members of her congregation, all watched over by some senior members of the local media. Half the local council were there with their significant others, either dressed as peacocks or penguins. All the families in our street were represented, though some of the younger people came stag, their partners looking after their kids probably.

That left only six significant people. My two sons, the eldest with his wife, the youngest with his girlfriend. At my signal, the latter, Sean, would distract Jenny’s mother and father when it was time for my speech. They were good people and in no way deserved a daughter like Jenny. As much as I wanted to see her humiliated, I couldn’t do it at the expense of her parents.

Sean made eye contact with me, and I nodded, he gulped then went to do his duty. As I saw him head inside, I entered the pavilion set up in the backyard and turned the sound system on. That drew everyone’s attention and I waited for them to gather closer with their glasses in hand, ready to toast us. Jenny came to the front, kissed me on the cheek, and looked at me adoringly, obviously in heaven at being the centre of so much attention.

I saw no reason to delay the inevitable and just launched into my speech.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Friends and Honoured Guests. I would like to be able to stand before you and say that the last twenty-five years of my life have been rich and rewarding, due to my wife Jenny being at my side the whole time. However, my parents brought me up to never tell lies.”

Jenny turned to me, a look of embarrassment and horror suffusing her still smiling face. It made for an odd combination. Realisation was dawning. I’m glad she was catching on so quickly. Hopefully, her intelligence would magnify her pain and suffering at being outed.

She shook her head at me, silently imploring me not to do what she suspected I was about to do so publicly. I was unfazed. For someone who wasn’t reticent about giving butt plug demonstrations to janitors, she was certainly shy about a little truth telling among family and friends.

“I found out recently that my beloved wife has been hanging the horns on me for some time now; sleeping with another man without my knowledge or consent; doing things with him that she has forever denied me.”

Jenny has always been a quick thinker and in all our years has never backed down from a fight. She quickly concluded that without a quick denial from her, she was finished. In case I had no evidence it was her word against mine and most people present knew her better than they knew me. She elbowed me from the microphone and looked daggers at me.

“I don’t know what sick joke Dave is playing here, folks, but I can assure you I have never been anything but a loving, faithful, and supportive…”

Jenny is an accomplished public speaker and knows to sweep her vision across her audience. She stopped talking when her gaze reached the far right side of the crowd. The side Simon was being wheeled in from in his wheelchair. He would be in it for several months to come. She stopped dead, all blood draining from her face. As Simon approached, he held out an old-style audio tape to me. I received it, turned, and put it into my old sound system attached to the public address set-up. Jenny looked stunned as the audio started to play from the position I’d cued the tape to. Simon’s voice blared from the speaker.

‘She also obviously had a thing about the feel of my cum dripping out of her ass after anal. She went wild for that.’

That was as far as the tape got before Jenny kicked the old stereo over. Quite a feat in her high heels and fitted skirt. Never underestimate the fury of an Irish woman exposed as a slut. As if that wasn’t enough, she began ripping wires out of sound system. It was muted forever. She turned on me, her face like thunder. All self-control gone in her humiliation. As she screamed, spittle landed all over me.

“You pathetic heap of garbage. You try to humiliate me and in the fucking process admit that you were never man enough to satisfy me. Yes, I fucked Simon. I fucked him a lot.” Jenny’s face was screwed up into a sneer. It wasn’t pretty.

“And you know what, Dave? I fucked a whole lot more before him. I would tell you how many but, to be honest, I lost count somewhere along the line. You remember our fifth anniversary, Dave? The trip to France? You remember the couple we met? Phillipe and Simone? Remember how we didn’t want to join you on a few tours of WWII battlefields? Well, we had fun. Real fun, and you, you naïve idiot, never had a fucking clue. And I’ve been having fun ever since. How dumb does that make you, Mister High and Mighty Businessman?”

At this point, Jenny stopped. Maybe she’d run out of breath. Her chest was certainly heaving. Maybe it was the realisation that her legendary temper had just ended her life as she knew it. Suddenly, I recalled a quote I’d read. It went something like, we all live three lives. Our public life. Our private life, and our secret life. Well, Jenny, in a fit of Irish temper had just revealed her secret life to all and sundry.

She stared at me, no doubt wondering why her latest words hadn’t appeared to be a surprise to me. She seemed confused by my grinning at her, effectively telling her I’d had the last laugh. I’d played her like a fiddle, stirring up her reflex to hurt whoever was hurting her, without adequate thought.

She looked from left to right of the staring audience, made up of just about everyone in the world whose opinion mattered to her. She looked at me at the very moment she realised something vital in human relationships. It isn’t a crime to be naïve. Being trusting doesn’t make you a social pariah. Being a cheating slut does, though.

She looked back at the sea of condemning faces, some of the ones belonging to single females already edging forward. To be amongst the first to console me; lay claim to me.

Jenny’s world was all about trust. From this moment on no one would ever trust her because they realised they didn’t know her.

She cut a very lonely figure as she headed for the exit.

.

EPILOGUE

Yes, I’d orchestrated the whole thing. I knew exactly how she’d react if I pushed certain buttons and she fell in the pit I’d prepared, beautifully. Irish by looks, Irish by nature.

How did I know Simon wasn’t the first? For two reasons really. Firstly, her demand I ring her from a landline when I was travelling wasn’t a six-month-old request. It had been happening long before cell phones were ever linked to brain disorders. Secondly, my new buddy, Simon, told me. That’s what we’d chatted about for twenty minutes at the end of our first meeting. He told me he’d once asked her why she insisted on such elaborate precautions, and she’d told him, laughingly, about the few times she’d almost been caught over the years.

Fucking in the charity office, after hours, when the cleaner walked in. Me querying her about a motel bill once and her having to make up a convincing excuse on the fly. Me coming home unexpectedly and her lover having to hide in the closet.

The funniest thing was that after I discovered Simon and started my planning, three other people let me know she was cheating, or might as well have.

Firstly, the mother of a local school soccer player, whose team I sponsored generously, worked at a local VD clinic and slipped me, at the risk of her job, copies of the paperwork proving Jenny was being treated for a recurrence of anal warts.

Secondly, the best friend of my eldest son’s wife inadvertently asked if a patient at her clinic, with the same surname, was related. Following up on that snippet revealed that my wife was scheduled for a termination the following week. According to the paperwork, my wife blamed the St John’s Wort she was taking to help her sleep. Could her conscience have been bothering her? Or did that interfere with her secretly taken contraceptive pills? Hard to see how she could have kept an abortion secret.,

And finally, Sean’s pained revelation, the day after my discovery that he knew of his mother’s affair. He’d been on an all-night bender and was looking for somewhere close to crash. He’d used the stashed spare key and was sneaking into his old room when he’d seen Simon returning to the master bedroom from the bathroom. He’d watched in the dim light as Simon got dressed and headed for the stairs. Ironically, it had been Sean whose extended foot Simon had tripped over in the dark and fallen to pain and fear. Sean took his time telling me as he didn’t want to be responsible for the agony of revelation.

Yes, Jenny made out alright financially in the divorce, but with the local media reports and gossip it was either skip the state or face a sneering populace forever more. It turned out to be both. The first place she settled she began splashing her money around and was invited to sit on several charity boards. Shortly after that, the other board members received certain documents and she was uninvited, with haste.

She moved again to have the same thing happen again… and again.

The last time I heard from the faithless bitch was when she rang me one night a week after another set of packages had been delivered. The area code indicated she was three states away from me.

I think she was drunk when I answered my phone to be greeted with howling abuse.

“For fuck’s sake, Dave, haven’t I been punished enough?”

“Nope.” Beep, beep, beep, was what I think she heard.

THE END

Now lighten the fuck up! Let’s see who I can upset today.

The medical profession has revealed that up to 8/10 doctor’s visits are totally unnecessary……., well, that’s what my gynaecologist told me anyway.

Do you remember the old Camel cigarette ads? “9 out of 10 men that have tried Camels will smoke nothing else”. How about, “ 9 out of 10 men that have tried Camels prefer women”. It’s the 10^th one you gotta worry about.

Doctors are worried about the epidemical rise in testicular injuries in women’s sport.