Fiction, untitled

"I'll be right out! I have to piss". and I did too, like a racehorse. I had been drinking beer steadily, with the occasional shot thrown in for good measure, since about nine. It was now near midnight, and I was getting loaded.

I leaned against the door of the men's room and kind of slid inside. The small sink was to the immediate right and I looked in the cracked mirror above the faucets. Christ, I looked like shit. My eyes were half closed, and my hair was a sweaty mass.

Great, I'm sure someone is going to want to go home with you, you piece of shit. I stumbled towards the urinal on the right. I tried to unzip my pants as I looked at the floor, in the corner. Someone had pissed all to the right of the urinal. That's messed up. I leaned left and went in front of the other urinal. I unzipped my pants and started to feel mildly better as I began to relieve myself.

I was noticing some of the fine art work and catchy phrases that people love to leave on bathroom walls. The ever famous "for a good blowjob call Jeremy at 376-xxxx". Brilliant. Here was one "Michelle is a whore". Huh, that's pretty straightforward and to the point. More interesting about it is that my wife is named Michelle. She was still my wife even though she was up the street with the the current "other man". I think his name is Aaron. Maybe it Derrick, I'm not sure. She always seems to leave me for someone with a similar sounding name to mine. I'll just call him Shithead.

Shithead had a good job. Shithead drove a nice car. Shithead paid attention to her. Shithead took her out. Shithead bought her things. Shithead wanted to have a big family with two dogs. Good for shithead. He's the model man.

Here I stand, next to a pool of urine reading phrases about various homo's in the vicinity. Seems like there is a Rick, Jake, and Mike. They all want to give head, and they were all nice enough to leave their phone numbers.

I also notice this one: LOOK DOWN. It had a down arrow next to it. Under that it said "Have you ever seen anything that small in a porno"? Very clever. and the answer is no. Not what I needed right now.

I wonder what my prospects were for picking someone up tonight? Someone of the female persuasion, thank you very much. I would guess almost nil.

Yes, it is sad, I know. This is a small town, and I was so sick of trying to hook up. Michelle and I had been apart for almost six months, and it had been pure hell. I needed more time, and it seemed like everywhere were reminders of her, and her new boyfriend.

I would certainly like to get Shithead in a dark alley somewhere. He's bigger than I am though, so I'll bring a gun. Why mess around? It seems to me I'd be better off putting an end to the whole ordeal, once and for all. I'd probably have to "off" myself though, right afterwards. There is no way I'm going away for homicide, bump that.

This piss was taking a long time. I finished up and I suddenly realized I don't have to hook up tonight anyway. What's the point? Pick someone up, take her home, screw her, and then hightail it the hell out of Dodge. I don't want to look at the woman I will be fucking, right now. I'm not sure there would be a lot of tender kisses and light touches. The sex would be rough. She would probably think I was an ass anyway, so I may as well just bypass the whole damn process and just go the fuck home.

I turn left out of the bathroom and keep walking, right out the door and onto the sidewalk out front. I walked quickly to the lot I was parked in and hopped into my pick up. I turned left out of the parking lot and then took the next left, down Park avenue.

This was the street that Michelle's parents live on. Michelle and Shithead are staying there tonight. I think I'll just drive by and be sure that they came to town this weekend.

I slow down as I approach the house and can distinctly see his truck out front. You think you're going to come to my town, asshole, and stroll around with my wife? You son of a bitch. I really wish the were both dead.

At that point it didn't matter that she had a good reason for finding someone else. It didn't matter that I was a jackass most of the time. It didn't matter that she had a right to happiness. All that mattered was I was pissed off and was going to do something.

I parked down the street and crept back, being sure to stay in the shadows of the trees. I walked along the back of the house, trying to stay low and not be seen. It was after midnight now, and I was sure nearly everyone was asleep.

I approached the truck and took out my keys. I dragged them down the side of the truck, back and forth, thoroughly enjoying myself. I wasn't very loud, and all of the lights were off at the houses nearby. I was behind the truck and unable to be seen from the street. This was turning into more fun than I thought was possible.

I wrote a big FUCK YOU! on the right rear quarter panel. For good measure I tore off one of the fog lights and cradled it under my arm as I ran to my truck on the street.

There you bastard! You'll love that when you get up in the morning to go for coffee at Dunkin' Donuts! Stop screwing married women! I kept running.

Holy shit! What a rush! I cannot believe I just did that. I got to the truck, opened the door, threw the fog light in the passenger seat and climbed in. I started it up and began driving down the street. Come on asshole, keep it straight. All you need is to get pulled over now. They are going to suspect it's you anyway, you know that right?

Uh-oh.

That's right. They will suspect me. I am such a dumbass. How the hell am I going to get out of this one?

I wonder if they send you to jail for vandelism?