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"Dear, are you free on Saturday for a few minutes?"

It begins so innocently. "Sure, Sure I am." Fat chance, Florida State for the National Bleeding Championship, then North Carolina and UCLA in Basketball.

"What did you say Dearest?", and so sweet too.

"Sure, Okay," said far to hurriedly. "Kick the ball asshole" a $100.00 pool and my winner lies with this pimple faced soccer player with the 12 'z' name .

"What dearest?"

"Yes darling", shut the bleeding up so this dumb-shit won't miss. He missed!!

" You stupid bastard it was a thirty yard chip shot! "

"Dearest, you're screaming at the television again."

" Yes darling", the little bleeper I hope a truck hits him ... twice. Now what did she ask me ... Saturday … what about Saturday?

"Darling, Dearest?" I hesitate to even ask. "What did you askme about .. a few minutes ago ... I had the game on?"

Only a rummy brain agrees without listening.

"Next Saturday, Darling."

"Yes what about it, Dearest?"

"We have an appointment, Darling."

"My Saturday is filled, Dearest."

"Darling, it's just a few minutes; between 1 and 6:00."

"What few minutes is that! My little pumpkin?"

"At the mall, Darling."

"What Mall, my little peach!?"

" You said you were free and don't raise your voice Darling."

"What bleeding appointment, my large sugar dumpling!?"

"You've agreed, calm down; your blood pressure is on the rise, Darling".

"What bleeding reason do we have a bleeding appointment for next bleeding Saturday ... what's so special about a December bleeding afternoon? My little Ham Knuckles."

"Please Darling, not this year too. Relax now!"

"Oh my God....!, basketball ... and oh bloody shit ... the Christmas Picture!"

"Don't cry Darling it's just a few minutes .... remember your heart."

"Don't speak to me about my bleeping heart you cold, tricky, heartless, bitch!"

"Please watch your language, it will do no good to complain, Darling."

"I'm not blinking going, not this year. I'm not; the kids aren't; we all refuse. Go by yourself; you stupid, old cow."

"They'll go or no Christmas for them and calling me names will not make me mad enough to call it off, Darling."

"You take the prize for the meanest, cruelest, evil, fat ass bitches."

"Yes, Darling."

"I wear bleeping green, bleeping pants and a red stinking, itchy, shit red sweater that I'd never be caught dead any bleeping else wearing .... and now I'm forced to have my picture taken for all posteriority to see ... you weasel-faced fat tub of shit."

"Posterity Darling, Posterity."

"You spend three hours getting ready ... just to convince people we hate that we just stepped out of a blinking J.C. Penney catalog."

"Yes Dear."

"You wash, dye, trim, rinse, cut, mousse, oil, pick, perm, spray, blow, shine, poof, and primp your kids bleeping hair not to mention that ragged shit you comb .... and the only thing those parasitic so called lazy-assed friends we have will notice is a few more grey hairs in my moustache."

"Yes, Darling."

"I'm not going you elephantine bag of wind."

"Yes, Dear."

"It's some sort of paranoia isn't it ... a sickness right! You women are a bleeping bunch of picture taking psychos. You get your cookies seeing other people bleeping sweat ... seeing the kids tortured ... you're all child molesters!"

"Abusers, Darling not molesters"

"Whatever same thing ... You're as bad as that penis whacker ... you like to see men suffer....a fema-nazi general. ... how much can a man suffer... first circumcision, potty pants, puberty, pimples, triple hooked bras, panty hose, prophylactics, marriage and the culmination or all that's evil in the world ... the Family Christmas Picture!"

" Quit spitting, dear. Say what you will but you got no divorce last year and you'll get none this year."

"A bleeping picture every year!.....It's a bleeping sickness! .... Like I'm going to grow more hair or your going to lose fifty pounds of ice cream off those monster thighs."

"Yes, dearest. But either way you're going and that's final... like every year... so put the gun away and calm down."

"No divorce?"

" No way you're stuck, darling."

" Suicide ... mine or yours? Murder?"

"It's in my will, either way the picture ... Dearest."

" Oh bleeding hell .... I'm bleeped again."

"Yes Dearest.”

"Yes Darling."

Kent M. Herrick, 1993




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