New Story
Everything broke that day. My house, my cable TV. My mind. I broke my mind that day. Strife, grief, turmoil, cognitive dissonance. It's whatever you want to call it. They told me our generation’s life expectancy is on the decline for the first time. Now-now, don't get me wrong that's a good thing, population control. Lord knows I don’t need to be around for 90 years. So why the cluster fuck? Why the nights of sleeping on the couch and the insane difficulty of keeping a tidy house. Why the fear? I found my Everest that day in a girl with a daisy white hat. I went up to ask her name. Then began to fart immensely. Uncontrollably. And loudly.
This happened four more times with women I talked too. Each time was an embarrassing failure. The fifth girl was different. I tried to talk to her while waiting for a train. She is the cluster fuck. Because it happened with her too, the whole gassy mess of a thing, but she laughed. She laughed and asked me what my name was. Now here is the truly vial part of the whole thing. After twenty 25 years of marriage to that damn women, I still love her. I despise love though. I want to hang love up on a tree and gut it open like some deer in a Wisconsin forest. Not my wife, god no, I mean the idea of love. Really it just makes me want to convulse and vomit. That aside, and really looking back on it, I knew I loved her after we got off the train that day.