“What’s up with Johnny? Don’t ya know he’s got that awful voice when he’s in that terrible mood I mean my God, what’s gonna happen to him? I swear, Margaret, sometimes I wanna take that fucking kid and drown him. Just take that worthless bastard and shove his head in the fucking toilet bowl and then at the very last minute, right before he turns blue, release him. Smack him around and shit. What kind of fucking demon is he? Making a fortune off of wounded souls! Ah shit, he’s at it again. JOHNNY! SHUT THE HELL UP OR I’LL RACE IN THERE AND GIVE YOU A SMACKING!”
Ben kept at it all night, irritating Margaret as she dozed off. Shook her. Trembled in the bed, fearing that Johnny would charge into the bedroom, kitchen knifes displayed like a violent deck of cards. Smash! Right in the neck. No, he wasn’t gonna face that kind of slaughter.
“Will you knock if off, Ben! Please. I wanna get me some shut eye. Can’t a woman get some shut eye around here? Between you and Johnny, I’ll have to rent a hotel room.” She rolled over, grunted, leaving Ben awestruck.
“She never mouths off to me. Wow, she really must be tired. Fine, I’ll make my way through the frigid corridor and sit beside Johnny’s door, pounding on it after ever sharp-piercing decible.”
In the morning, indents on Ben’s back. He slept all weird. Dreamed about Johnny and Margaret having an affair…
No! The italicized words are shit! Total fucking shit! There was a streak of mania riding through my brain on the way home from the gym. They were dangerous. This here is Hollywood nonsense. Something I’ve never experienced before. An affair! Shit in my last relationship, a million years ago, I encouraged my ex-girlfriend to fool around with her band mate. I wanted to watch. Eventually, she broke up with me. Claimed that when it came to love she didn’t “know what it meant anymore.” They did fuck. Must have been good. Now they’re married with a kid, maybe two.