The Lady

I ran out the door with my keys in my mouth as I searched through my bag for yesterday’s drop that I was supposed to take to the bank last night.

In the car I turned the key in the ignition of my ten- year old suburban and pulled out of the driveway.

I saw a few of the neighbors out and about, some of them working in the garden, others just out on the porch having their morning coffee.

I saw that skinny twat Marcy jogging along the sidewalk, her bleach blonde ponytail bobbing up and down and her silicone tits sticking out in front of her. Fake ass Barbie!

I was tempted to drive up on the sidewalk and run her ass over. I actually envisioned it and grinned. When I saw myself in the mirror with that sinister look on my face, I reminded myself that I needed to make an appointment to see the doctor. This damn hormonal imbalance shit was making me batty.

I made a quick stop at the bank and was in and out in five minutes. The restaurant that I owned with the limp dick asshole was only ten minutes away but I was already running late.

“Please don’t let this asshole say anything to me today, I am not in the mood.” I said that little mantra all the way there, hoping for some divine intervention.

My deadbeat housemate slash husband never misses an opportunity to crawl up my ass. Lately he seems to be doing it even more than usual, which can only mean one thing. He was banging somebody else.

Now normally I wouldn’t mind so much, I’d grown used to it by now. If some poor soul was willing to let his obese beer swilling ass pant away on top of them, more power to her.

But lately every little thing he does just grates on my damn nerves. Plus the fact that the books have been coming up short a lot more than usual and I was about ready to lose my shit.

I don’t mind him wetting his dick in some senseless bitch of a twat, but when he’s going to use my hard earned money to finance his shit that’s when we’re gonna have problems.

I’m sure it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time I’ve been savvy enough to notice. There was no point in bringing it up to him.

He only knows one language, lies. And I’m afraid that if he lies to me one more time I just might flip my shit and blast his overfed ass into next week.

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