Mixed Messages
Monica is one crazy-ass broad. I have no idea why I married her. Perhaps it's because I knocked her up three years ago, thereby producing a flabby and toxic baby that died five hours after birth. Perhaps it's because I've always been sexually and emotionally attracted to the freaks and weirdos of the world.
Anyway...
Monica got a little wild last week. She grabbed the gun from the kitchen table and brandished it in my face.
"Stay away from the fucking farm animals!" she screamed.
I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.
"I've seen the way you stare at Melba!"
"Who's Melba?"
"You know damn well who Melba is!" The vein in her forehead leaked an angry crimson. "Farmer Brown told me everything!"
"Farmer Brown exists only in your mind, hon."
"No, he's a multi-dimensional psychopomp!"
I wanted to claw at my face until bones gleamed. Closing my eyes for a few seconds helped, but, when I opened them, I saw Monica's finger wrapped firmly around the trigger. Weird sonic sounds issued from her throat. The blood that seeped from her forehead boiled and turned corpse-green.
These were not good signs. I slapped her hand; the gun thudded to the floor.
"Why the fuck did you do that!" she screamed.
Explaining myself to Monica would get me nowhere, so I shrugged my shoulders.
"Was it because you're terrified of oblivion?"
"No," I said, "I'd welcome the big death if it comes on my terms."
Monica removed every stitch of her clothing: "Would you settle for the little death, instead?"
"You're one confusing broad." My phallus swelled past the boundaries of my pants. "And that's why I love you."
"Reginald, I love you, too. I...I'm so sorry." The blood on her forehead became the color of freshly cut roses and grade-school valentines. The Monica I loved had returned. Maybe she'd be back forever. No more psychopomps. No more Farmer Browns. No more Melbas. I smiled until my lips poked at my ears.
And then Monica picked up the gun and shot me, first in the face, and then in the groin.
I watched her dry hump the refrigerator through murky and dying eyes.