I give you, a second clip of me acting. Here’s the first if you think you can handle it.
I was visiting my friend in Portland when a few dozen beers led to some ingenious sketch ideas. This is one of them.
- Thomas M. Watt
- Author of Master
Tag Archives: dating
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 7
“What’s your wife doin’?” said the driver.
“That’s not my…” Calvin shook his head. “I don’t know. She’ll be right back, though.”
“You better hope so, fair’s runnin.”
“She’ll be here in a sec, said she would.”
Calvin listened to “Bittersweet Symphony” on his Ipod again, and couldn’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. It’d been so long since the sweet ingredients of love had churned in his gut and been devoured by his heart. Marrying Bridgette was a blemish he’d been trying to paint around, but now that he was certain she was cheating and actively looking to kill him, brushing on a fresh canvas didn’t seem like such a condemn-able idea.
“Give her a call, buddy,” said the driver.
Calvin smeared his forehead. “Don’t know her phone number, believe it or not.”
“Ah, I see. Damn shame, thought you two looked good together. Good times end so fast.”
“You misunderstood. We’re gonna be together for the long run. Trust me.”
The driver adjusted his rear view mirror to catch a glance of Calvin, then sighed and turned away.
Calvin scoffed and shook his head. He tapped his fingers on his knee, then ripped the earbuds out and stuffed the Ipod back into his pocket. He checked the time – five minutes since she’d left. He ran a hand threw his hair, then fluttered his lips with an exhale and crossed his arms.
“Go in there and get her. Doin’ nothing for nobody, just waitin’ here,” said the driver.
“Be patient.”
“Huh?”
Calvin groaned, then whipped out a wad of bills from his pocket. He swatted them in the driver’s hand. “Here,” he said, then stepped out.
He paced toward the club with his head on a swivel. Shea said she’d be right back, but the fact that she hadn’t returned wasn’t a huge call for alarm – chances were, she had some choice words before parting ways with Brody and leaving his dirty dick for good.
Still, Calvin felt uneasy – he was convinced Bridgette and Brody were conspiring to kill him. He could afford to look for Shea, as long as he remained surrounded by others – narcissists murdered, but weren’t the type to ruin their reputations and risk prison time.
Calvin passed by people exiting the club, then made his way through the smokers near the back entrance. He tore the door open and came face to face with Brody.
“H-h-hey, Calvin! I was just looking for you.”
Calvin dropped back a step.
Brody proceeded forward, then swung his arm around Calvin and tugged him away from the club and toward an empty alleyway. “Your wife tells me you’re quite the guitar player-”
“Eat a dick,” said Calvin, throwing Brody’s arm from his shoulders. He turned around. Brody jumped in front of him.
“Easy, guy! … what’s with the constant hard-on for me?”
“Returning yours from my wife.”
The smokers outside raised their eyebrows and moved a little closer.
“What? Nooo,” said Brody. “What kind of monster you think-”
“Kind of monster who kills. I know about the gun.”
“What gun?” said Brody, with a chuckle. “Oh, you mean this?” He reached inside the flap of his jacket, withdrew a handgun, then casually pointed it at Calvin. “I like guns, so what.”
“Put that shit away,” Calvin said.
“Easy guy! you really think I would shoot you?”
“Thought Bridgette might cheat with a douche-bag, was right about that.”
Brody smiled. The smokers watched eagerly.
“This attitude of yours is very disheartening,” said Brody.
“I’m leaving with Shea.”
Brody quit smiling. “What?”
“That’s right. You can have Bridgette, she’s all yours. I want Shea.”
Brody scratched his temple and lowered an eyebrow. “But… why?”
“Because when you acted like a pompous ass in the limo she told me to ignore you, and that’s goddamn refreshing after being told ‘stop being an idiot’ for so fucking long. Because when I got my ass kicked by some clown inside she cared more about me being alright than how stupid she looked being the wife of a loser. Because when I say it’s a perfect moment, she makes it better.”
“But Bridgette’s a ten, and they’re both blonde, so…”
Calvin scoffed. “You’re a joke. Get out of my way,” he said, trying to move past.
Brody grabbed him by the arm, then yanked him close and jammed the gun barrel into his abdomen.
Calvin glared at him. “I’m not as funny as you think,” said Brody.
“Move the gun.”
“I’ll start with the trigger.”
Calvin forced his words through gritted teeth. “What kind of idiot kills in public? Look around, we’re surrounded. They’ve got cameras recording this.”
Brody didn’t flinch.
“Why kill me?” Said Calvin. “Take Bridgette, she’s all yours. Let me and Shea walk.”
“Nobody’s trying to kill you,” said Brody.
“Ditch the gun,” said Calvin.
“Problem’s Shea.”
“You don’t give a shit, you don’t even love her.”
“Not that simple.”
“We’ll see, guy,” said Calvin. He shoved Brody then hurried toward the backdoor.
“H-h-hey, buddy!” yelled Brody. “Think you’ve had a few too many!”
Calvin reached for the door, ripped it open, then lost his feet out from under him. Brody had tackled his lower half. The door fell closed, and Calvin found himself wrestling on the pavement.
“You’re not getting back at that guy in there!” said Brody. “Already caused a scene, now you’re embarrassing both of us!”
The onlookers didn’t intervene. Calvin struggled to peel himself free from Brody, who wouldn’t stop yelling.
“I won’t let you fight him! I can’t, you’re not in your right mind!”
Calvin managed to climb on top of Brody, then swallowed up Brody’s face with his palm. “Shut the fuck up!”
“You’re drunk!” said Brody. “Get off me, you’re drunk!”
Calvin reared back then slugged Brody across the face. Blood fired out from his mouth.
“Money don’t buy fists,” Calvin said, then tried to push himself up.
Brody grabbed Calvin’s white button down, then ripped him close and hissed into his ear.
“I’m not the breadwinner bitch.”
“What?”
“Shea’s loaded. Family inheritance.”
Calvin shook his head. “You’re talking out your ass-”
“Nothing to gain by killing you.”
Calvin’s heart raced. “So Shea is-”
“Dead,” said Brody, before taking a peek at his rolex. “Right about… now.” He laughed in his face, blood sputtering from his lips.
“No,” said Calvin. He shook his head, reached into Brody’s jacket, then yanked out the gun. “No!” He stood up and stormed into the club.
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
CLICK HERE FOR PART 8 – FINALE!
“
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 5
Brody stood behind Bridgette in the VIP section of the dance club. They watched Calvin get pummeled by a big man with a gold chain. Calvin and Shea escaped the club through the back door.
Bridgette spun around, and her lips were inches from Brody.
“So you had to do that?”
“Not a great time for cold feet, Bridgette!”
“Obviously,” she said, then crossed her arms. “But he’s the dad of my kids, it sucks to watch him get hurt… you better not be friends with that thug, animals like that disgusts me.”
Brody smiled and put his hand on Bridgette’s shoulder, then massaged her neck as he spoke. “H-hey, relax B-ridge. People will do anything for a fee, a love for the Benjamin’s is all I have in common with him.”
“Stop pretending, nobody can hear you but me… so why did you have him beat Calvin up?”
Brody released Bridgette, swatted the air with his hand then walked away. Bridgette scurried after him until they sat down on a sofa together.
“Don’t get snappy with me,” she said, then folded her arms.
Brody groaned. “We’ve been over this. They both needed to leave the club.”
“Duh, I know.”
“When Shea comes back in, you better be ready,” he said, then faced her with his brow deep over his eyes.
“They might leave together… I think they know-”
“She won’t.”
“Yeah but-”
“I took care of it,” said Brody. “She’ll be back inside.” He shoved Bridgette in the side with his forearm, forcing her to scoot. He shook his head as he reached for a concealed holster and took a revolver out.
“Hide that thing!” she said. “What if someone sees?”
“Your husband already did, thanks to your stupidity.”
Bridgette folded her arms, then shut her eyes and scratched her forehead. “So… did you bring the knife?”
Brody groaned, then got up from the couch and tapped one of his workers from the dealership on the shoulder. He smiled big. “Hey, having a blast?”
“Yeah, this place rocks!”
“Phenomenal! Hey, be a rock-solid guy and hand me Shea’s purse? Thanks guy.”
“Sure,” said the employee. He grabbed it from the tall table and handed it to Brody.
Brody returned to the sofa, opened the purse, then handed a steak knife to Bridgette. A napkin concealed the blade.
“You know what to do,” said Brody.
Bridgette bit her lips. “Is divorce really so bad?”
Brody curled his fingers into a fist. He glared straight ahead as he spoke through a dark whisper. “We’re a family first company. Divorce would crush my reputation. Marrying a widow, that’s a different story.”
Bridgette gulped.
“Grab Shea when she comes in.” He squeezed Bridgette’s hand. “Do this right, we can stop hiding.”
Bridgette nodded, then leaned in to him with her lips pushed out.
Brody caught her face with his palm, then sniffed. “You said you quit.”
“Calvin made me smoke.”
“You don’t listen to Calvin, you listen to me.” Brody pushed her away, then stood and stuck his finger in her face. “Get Shea.”
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 4
“I had breakfast with Bridgette’s dad this morning.”
Shea quit smiling. Calvin walked around her and pushed through the dancers.
“Calvin, wait!” said Shea.
He split a couple apart and continued on. His eyes darted around the place, but it was hard to identify his wife with the rapid flash of strobe lights. Music pounded through the speakers. Sweaty bodies were everywhere – but where was Bridgette?
Calvin spotted a few of his wife’s work friends. They climbed the stairs. At the front of the pack strode Bridgette and Brody. It looked like they could be holding hands, but other patrons blocked his view.
“Dammit,” he said, standing on his toes.
Someone grabbed Calvin by the wrist.
“Shea, what does that look-”
The moment he whirled around, a fist came flying at his face. Calvin ducked down and narrowly dodged the flying knuckles. It came from a big fella wearing an extra large black shirt, gold chain around his neck.
“What the hell!” said Shea.
Big fella swung again, and socked Calvin in the stomach. Calvin fell back a few steps.
“Stop!” Said Shea.
“Ain’t about you girl,” said big fella.
Calvin lifted his gaze – bouncers were storming over and parting the dancers.
“Look me in the eye you little bitch.” Big fella cracked his knuckles.
“Who are you?” said Calvin.
Big fella grabbed a fistful of Calvin’s shirt.
“Calvin!” said Shea.
Big fella cocked his arm back and delivered another blow into Calvin’s cheek. When he reloaded for another punch, Calvin shot out his arm, grabbed his gold chain, then twisted it until Big Fella began to choke. Big Fella dropped to his knees and dug his fingers between his chain and neck, struggling to breathe.
Big Fella ripped the chain himself, and the pieces landed on the floor.
“You done it,” he said, then stood and slugged Calvin across the face
Calvin landed in a dive on the dance floor, pushing the legs out from those around him. He hurried onto his back, and found Big Fella pouncing to clobber him. Calvin brought his knee into his chest, then kicked Big Fella right in the teeth. Backlash sent big fella bending and twisting over in the opposite direction.
Bouncers tore through the crowd, pointing at Calvin.
Calvin sprung to his feet and grabbed Shea by the hand. He rushed toward the backdoor, using his front wrist to strong-arm through the dancers.
“Why did he attack you?” said Shea.
“You think I know?”
Calvin checked over his shoulder for the bouncers, and got an unexpected glance of Bridgette and Brody. Calvin stopped in his tracks.
Shea ran into him. He turned her around, then held her with his forearm wrapped around her neck.
“What are you-”
Shea followed the point of his finger. Brody leaned over Bridgette from behind the top balcony, with his hands holding the bar in front of her abdomen.
“Oh my God,” said Shea.
The bouncers were making headway through the crowd.
“Let’s go,” said Calvin. He charged toward the back door and yanked Shea along with him. He kicked it open, and the two barged into a crowd of smokers.
“Waddup?” said a smoker.
Calvin noticed the four men encircling him had baggy shirts and chain necklaces.
“Your face looks like pizza got stomped on.” said one of them.”Who you runnin’ from?”
“Nobody. Let me bum one.”
They scoffed. One of them handed him a cigarette.
Calvin lit up, then sucked the black ash into his lungs.
“What just happened?” said Shea. She coughed and looked away.
“You don’t smoke?”
She eyeballed the cigarette. “Not anymore.”
Shea plucked the cigarette from his lips, then jammed it in her own. She treated it like it were a CPR victim, and killed it in no time. Shea coughed, bent over and pressed her hand to her chest.
Calvin pat her on the back and helped her straighten up. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
“Am I okay? Don’t you think they’re cheating on us?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’re getting cuckolded… my life’s over.” Shea spun around and reached for the door. Calvin grabbed her by the wrist then tugged her back.
“That guy attacked me for no reason.”
“I know, I’m sorry but-”
“Don’t go in there.”
“My husband’s in there.”
“Bridgette can be sinister. She goes out without me, but something changed her mind tonight. I don’t think it’s love.”
“Calvin-”
“Bridgette brought a gun. Maybe Brody’s got it now. Does your husband know how to use one?”
“Oh my God,” she lifted her head and stared back into his eyes.
“What?”
“The knife,” said Shea. She checked him up and down, then pushed her hand into his chest and walked away.
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 3
Brody’s eyes fidgeted between her and Calvin. “…sure.”
He poured Shea a drink, then passed it along. The party guests resumed their former chatter, and the remainder of the ride went smooth, though there were a few subtle bumps. Calvin kept silent.
The ride pulled up to the popular night spot and dropped them off. The party guests hurried out and trotted to the back of the line. Once they settled in, Calvin grabbed Bridgette by the wrist and tugged her close.
“You brought a gun?”
“Huh?”
“I saw it. In your purse.”
“Are you being serious?”
Calvin’s mouth stayed shut.
“You’re starting to piss me off.” Bridgette jerked her arm away, then smiled brightly and returned to her circle of friends.
“Shit,” said Shea, squeezing Calvin’s shoulder.
He watched as she scraped her heel along the ground. It was the first time he noticed she had blonde hair and wore a red party dress, almost identical to his wife’s.
“I stepped in it. I stepped in shit,” Shea said.
Calvin stepped out of her grasp and grabbed his wife again. He swiveled her around, grabbed both sides of her face then kissed her on the lips.
“What do you want?” she said.
He brought his lips right into her ear, then whispered. “You have a gun. In your purse. I want to know why.”
“Get off me!” She shoved him back a few steps. Everybody in the circle went quiet. “See for yourself, moron!” She flung the purse at him.
It hit Calvin in the abdomen. Out spilled her make-up, tampons, and a few pens. No gun.
“Whoa! Keep it in the bedroom, you two!” said Brody. He ran his hand threw his grey hair and chuckled.
Calvin shook his head, then lowered to one knee and picked up his wife’s belongings. Shea bent over and picked up a few of the items with him, then dumped them in the bag.
Calvin stood, then smacked Bridgette’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Here.”
She folded her arms. “You don’t trust me.”
“Take your purse.”
She rolled her eyes, then returned to her circle.
“You okay?” Shea said to Calvin.
He nodded.
“Want me to hold that?” said Shea.
Calvin’s eyes were glued to his wife. She wasn’t just enjoying herself – she was glowing.
Shea made robot noises as she peeled his digits off the handle, one by one. She swung the purse over her shoulder, then stopped giggling. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, I’m great.”
“Good, because that’s totally what I asked.”
A few people exited the night club, and the line moved forward.
“Brody works a lot, and I’m really busy with the kids,” said Shea. She stuck her palm to her eye. “Shit, I mean the kids I teach. I want kids, but Brody doesn’t. He used to, well before he married me-”
“My wife is going to kill me.”
Shea gasped. “What?”
Calvin studied Brody.
“I’m sure you’re just imagining it. I don’t know, you seem really creative. I think it’s cool how you play the guitar.”
Calvin faced her.
“Brody told me. They’ve been on the phone non-stop since Bridgette’s dad died.”
The group took another step forward. They were nearing the entrance.
“Did she even tell you? Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Bridgette’s my good friend, and I don’t like getting into other people’s business. But that’s the only reason they look close.” She bit her lips, then pat Calvin’s shoulder blade. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place, I’m just a stranger to you… but if Bridgette’s scared you won’t be there for her when she needs you most, you kind of need to show her that she’s wrong… you know?”
The group advanced to the front of the line. “Wait here,” said the bouncer.
Shea sighed. “Shit, I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. That’s terrible. Not just for you, she must have trust issues. Just be patient and talk to her… I know I just met you, but you seem so sweet. Make her aware that you want to know all about the loss of her dad. That’s a really big deal… for anybody. I’m sure it’s not even you, she just feels vulnerable… There’s only two real men in a girls life, for God’s sake!”
Calvin shut his eyes.
Shea smiled kindly. “I know how it looks. Trust me, you think it’s been easy waiting for my husband to get off the phone with her? Bridgette’s an honorable person and would never do that to either of us, but I’m human, so yeah, I worry. I’ve been cheated on before – it destroyed me… for years.”
The group entered the nightclub, but the bouncer pulled the rope back before Calvin and Shea could pass through.
“Two?” said the bouncer.
“Oh, um, yeah I guess.” Shea scratched the back of her head. She frowned and punched Calvin in the shoulder. “It’s great to be a thinker, but you really should lighten up a little… I know Brody seems like a jerk, but he’s a good guy deep down… Trust me, he would never, ever cheat on me.” She smiled at Calvin. “So stop worrying about him and your wife already!”
The bouncer cleared the rope. The pair strode up the steps together and entered through the door. Music bumped, strobe lights flashed. Shea grabbed Calvin’s jacket flap. His gaze remained somewhere beyond her.
“Hey! Nothing is wrong! They’re friends! We’re friends! Relax and have fun!”
She hopped until she had his attention, then tossed her hair back and crossed her arms. “God, you really need to let things go!”
“I had breakfast with Bridgette’s dad this morning.”
Shea quit smiling. Calvin walked around her and pushed through the dancers.
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 2
If you missed Part 1, click here!
A long black limo pulled up and parked by the curb. The driver walked around the vehicle and opened the door for them.
When Bridgette crouched down to enter, Calvin noticed a handgun tucked away in her purse. He stopped where he stood.
“All aboard the S.S. Jackhammer!” said Brody.
Cheers and laughter followed, along with a few clanks of bottles and glasses.
“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” Calvin said to Bridgette, his wife.
“Uh-oh, he’s getting cold feet, you were right about this guy!” said Brody.
“You’re not even inside, and you already want to argue?” said Bridgette.
The laughter and chatter died down.
“It’s just…” said Calvin. “When did you get… Are we going someplace dangerous?”
For a moment the limo went quiet. Then Brody let out an explosive chuckle, yanked Calvin inside by his tie, and everybody returned to their previous festive mood.
“Grab a drink guy, lighten up. It’s Friday!”
Bridgette laughed. She took the seat right beside Brody. Calvin moved around at a hunch until he squeezed in between two women.
“Name’s Calvin by the way.”
“What’s that?” said Brody.
“My name is Calvin. We haven’t met before. I’m a firefighter.” He scratched under his jaw. “You know, my name isn’t guy.”
Brody raised an eyebrow.
“Ignore him. He’s a party-pooper.” Said Bridgette.
“No, no,” said Brody. “I’m a stand-up guy myself. My name is Brody, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Calvin. Your wife has nothing but wonderful things to say about you.”
“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he said with a laugh. Everybody chuckled along with him.
While the party guests indulged in the jovial mood, Calvin sat with his knees pressed together. He reached into his pocket for his phone, and started to text Bridgette.
When did you buy a gun?
“Baby, hold this for me!” Bridgette tossed her phone through the air.
Calvin made a jerky move to catch it. He wanted to ask her out loud, but her eyes darted to every spot he wasn’t.
Calvin shook his head, then slipped Bridgette’s phone into his other pocket. When he did, he inadvertently elbow-jabbed the breast beside him. Calvin instantly crossed his arms close to his chest, then sighed, shut his eyes, and let his head droop backward.
“I’m here, in my mold,” he muttered to himself.
“But I’m a million different people, from one day to the next.”
Calvin’s eyes shot open. The woman who he’d just bumped into had sung the rest of the verse.
“Bittersweet symphony?” said Calvin.
“I know, don’t you hate that song? Slaves to money then we die? Sorry, but money equals happiness.”
Calvin raised his eyebrows and grinned politely.
“That was a joke… kind of a bad one. Not sure where the laugh goes. The verve? Please. I love that song.” She mumble-sang the melody and bobbed her head.
Nothing about her screamed super-model. Especially not the freckles spotting both her dimpled cheeks. But she was… simple. And simple was better than ideal. A lot better.
“Another bottle,” Shea!” said Brody.
The woman beside Calvin nodded, then reached into a cooler and took out some Pinot Noir.
“Throw it,” said Brody.
“Well I don’t want to break-”
“Throw it, throw it, throw it!” began Brody, slapping his hands to his thighs. The rest of the party followed his lead, while Calvin had his eyes on Shea. She blinked rapidly, shook her head, then chucked it like it were a dead rat over to Brody. He and Bridgette tried to grab it at the same time, and in their haste they knocked the bottle straight to the floor, where it shattered. Wine spilled over Brody’s slacks and Bridgette’s ankles. The cheer halted.
“Dammit Shea,” said Brody. He fanned out his wet hands.
“Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have thrown it. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, don’t you worry doll. Brody bought more than enough,” said Bridgette. She flashed a picture-perfect smile.
Calvin twisted his lips, then pressed out the creases in his slacks.
“I know, I’m clumsy. Here, I’ll pass you another,” said Shea.
She retrieved a new bottle from the cooler. Brody crouched low then made ‘chuga-chuga’ sound effects as if he were a train, and ‘chugged’ over to her.
“Hey, here’s an idea? Why don’t you just hand it to me?” He chuckled loud, then snagged the bottle from Shea. “You’re the best,” he said, then returned back to his seat beside Bridgette. He popped open the bottle, then poured those around him a glass. He met eyes with Calvin, who sat with his arms crossed.
“Would you like a glass?”
Calvin scratched under his jaw. “This is your wife, right?”
Brody glanced at her, then tugged his lip corners up with his cheeks. “How truly awful of me… I’ve been so excited to have fun tonight, formal introductions must have slipped my mind. Calvin, you’re sitting next to my wife, Shea.”
Calvin nodded with his tongue pushed into his teeth.
“Hi,” said Shea. She held out her hand, but Calvin’s eyes were trained on Brody.
“I’m not used to these events, so help me understand… why am I sitting next to your wife, while you’re sitting by mine?”
Bridgette glared at Calvin. Brody raised his eyebrows. The other party guests quietly sipped their drinks.
Brody opened his mouth, but Bridgette grabbed hold of his wrist.
“You don’t have to answer that,” she said. “Calvin… babe? This an adult event. Try to act like one.”
“It’s ok, B-ridge,” said Brody, returning Bridgette’s hand to her lap. “Now Calvin, it’s my fault for not giving you the four-one-one, but typically at events like this, you actually don’t use any seating charts. Had I known you would have felt more comfortable, I would have been happy to draw one up for you.”
Many of the party guests bit their lips. A few chuckles escaped.
“B-ridge?” said Calvin. “What’s that, your pet name for my wife?”
Bridgette’s palm smacked against her forehead. Brody wore a tight-lipped smile.
“Why don’t you tone it down a notch, huh guy? You didn’t pay for this limo. You don’t know anybody here. You wouldn’t even be here if weren’t for B-ridge. So take a drink, and enjoy the good vibes.”
Calvin mirrored Brody’s tight-lipped grin. “Sounds radical.”
Shea rubbed Calvin’s kneecap, then whispered in his ear. “Just ignore him.”
Calvin turned and they met eyes.
Shea darted her hand back, shook her head, then scratched behind her ear. She turned to Brody and smiled. “I’d like a drink!”
Brody’s eyes fidgeted between her and Calvin. “…sure.”
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 1
“We’re doing great, really great… I just needed to listen better… No, a kiss goodnight and in the morning… not a chance, my parent’s divorce ruined me… she’s their mother, man!… Sounds good, you too.” Calvin ended the phone call and put out his cigarette. He hung his head, then smiled and opened the sliding door. He returned to the bedroom.
“Oh my god,” said Bridget. She scrunched her nose and sniffed. “You smell like cigarettes.”
“You quit, not me.”
“Smells repulsive.” Bridget finished shimmying into her red party dress. “How do I look, baby?”
Calvin plopped down at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets. “Great.”
Bridgette slipped her thumbs under her spaghetti straps and flipped her top down. She wiggled at the hips, so the two hills filling her push-up bra jiggled around.
“This better, baby?” she said with a laugh.
Calvin smiled. “Didn’t think you were dressing up for me.”
“You’re my husband!”
“…why don’t I come along, for a change?”
Bridgette scoffed. “We’ve been over this. You don’t do good at social events.” She tugged her red dress back up over her breasts, then smiled and pecked Calvin on the cheek. “You’re the one I come home to. You’re my protector and guardian… but sometimes I need you to protect and guard the kids.”
Her phone beeped. She peeked in her purse, then scurried with it out to the hallway bathroom.
“I was thinking maybe I could join you this time,” said Calvin.
“Why? It’s just me and people from the dealership.”
“But it’s a club, right?”
“You won’t let me dance now? God, give me a break-”
“Never said that, babe. But you’re going dancing, so I’m sure bringing a spouse is fine.” Calvin sighed, then dragged himself out to the hallway. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “You said you wanted to spend more time together, right?”
“At the dinner table! The dinner table, baby! When I’m here alone, and you’re working, or whatever it is you’re really doing.”
“Ok… well maybe it would be fun, like the old days. It’s good to go out together sometimes… I already hired a babysitter and cleared my plans-”
“Aw, baby,” said Bridgette. She came over to Calvin and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. “You cancelled your date with your guitar, all for me?”
He forced a tight-lipped smile.
“I told Brody I’d be his date tonight,” said Bridgette, before glancing at Calvin through the corner of her eye. She scratched her eyebrow. “If you really want to come, I’ll let him know.”
“I do… You’re important to me.”
“Aw! You’re important to me!” Bridget smiled, then pinched Calvin’s cheek. “Fine… you win.” She grabbed her phone, tapped out a text, then waited for the response with her fingers in her lips.
“Who’s Brody?” said Calvin.
“Huh? Oh, my boss.”
“Ah. Ok.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know. You don’t say much about work.”
Bridgette’s eyes went wide. “I don’t say much about work?”
“I’m a firefighter… I work with all guys… Three days in a row.”
Her phone beeped. Bridget laughed so hard she snorted, then covered her mouth.
“What?”
She grabbed her purse and left the bathroom shaking her head.
“Babe?”
“You wanted this, not me!” Shouted Bridgette. She opened the front door and left the one-story house.
Calvin remained where he stood. He noticed something in their wedding portrait he’d never noticed before – Lying on the hill in the background was an old couple. Calvin squinted and moved for a closer look to be sure – the woman, easily seventy five, had her hand in her husbands pants! The husband, who might as well have had ‘grandfather’ written in wrinkles on his forehead, was smoking something that was far too fat and green to be a cigarette.
“You dirty dog…” said Calvin.
The front door swung open, and Bridget stuck her head back inside. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”
“Yeah, sorry,” said Calvin. He met her on the driveway then followed her out to the curb. Calvin plucked out another cigarette and lit it.
“Let me,” said Bridget, summoning the pack with her fingers.
He lowered an eyebrow, then handed her the lighter.
“The cigarette,” said Bridget.
“I thought you quit?”
“I did,” she said, then nabbed one out from his pack. She sucked half the life out with one puff. “We’re in for a show tonight, babe.”
“Oh… why?”
“Brody’s bringing his wife,” she said, exhaling a stream of white smoke.
“Oh,” Calvin said.
Bridgette pet down his hair. “She’s a bitch, honey. Imagine Cruella de Vill’s vagina. Everyone at work hates her. If Brody wasn’t such a sweetheart, he’d have divorced her already.”
Calvin lowered her wrist away from his hair. “Maybe he feels marriage is his best option… No matter what.”
Bridgette cracked up laughing and soon was in tears. “Yeah, right. Brody? Honey, he’s got more options than he can count! His wife’s a leech… married him for his money. Plus she’s dumb as a rock. Words won’t do justice, you just have to see for yourself. I kind of feel bad for him. Even her. She’s what’s known as ‘Fugly’.”
Calvin nodded. He lit another cigarette, but Bridgette plucked it from his lips. She smoked it, tossed it on the ground and stomped it out with her heel.
“No more smoking. We’re in this together.”
Calvin twisted his lips, then rocked back and forth as he waited with his hands in his pockets. Bridget texted.
A long black limo pulled up and parked by the curb. The driver walked around the vehicle and opened the door for them.
…To be continued.
- Thomas M. Watt
Donald and Thurma – Part 4 – Finale
“I think I can,” he said to himself, chugging along the sidewalk tracks. “I think I can.”
Donald walked with both fists clenched. Amanda and Thurma strolled a short ways ahead, Thurma with her head down.
He wasn’t angry, he was determined – and approaching a girl who was more than likely to reject him was no easy task for Donald.
“Hey,” he called out.
The two girls turned around. Amanda smirked, and crossed her arms. Thurma stilted like a wooden statue.
“Let me guess,” said Amanda. “You found something and were wondering if it belongs to Thurma. Is that your excuse for talking to her? Because that’s not exactly original.”
“No,” said Donald. “I want to talk to her as myself.”
“Why?” said Amanda, narrowing her eyes. “Been acting like somebody else?”
Donald stared straight at Thurma. “Have you?”
Silence.
“Erm, I’ll leave you two alone,” said Amanda, before patting her friend on the shoulder and walking on ahead.
“What are you talking about?” Thurma said to him.
“This shit.” Donald pointed back to the bar. “You want some dipshit frat-boy, let me know and I’ll leave right now.”
“I don’t want that.”
“I’m a dork. My name’s Donald by the way.”
“Mine’s Thurma.”
“You’re one too.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Thurma. She twisted her lip, then sighed and lowered her gaze to his feet. “But maybe I’m not the bitch who you met, either.”
“Good.”
She looked back up. “Maybe I am just a basic bitch. Maybe if you knew the real me, you wouldn’t have come running to talk to me.”
“I like basic bitches. I’m a basic dude.”
Thurma chuckled, then hid her teeth behind her hand. “So what do you want?”
“Huh?”
“What are you after?” She said, then set her hands on her hips. “Is it a number, to brag to your friend about? Because if you really think you’re going to sleep with me tonight-”
“I came to talk with you. That’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because when I look at you I see a part of me, the part that I like.”
“What part’s that?”
Donald scratched the back of his head, then looked away. “I like good morning texts. I like snuggling. I like having to tell a girl she doesn’t have to worry about what’s-her-name, no matter how paranoid she’s being, or clingy she becomes.”
“I’m not following you.”
Donald shook his head, then returned his gaze to Thurma. He creased his brow when he noticed the mark on her chin, then leaned forward to get a better look at it.
“Stop!” she said, then covered the mark with her hand. “That’s rude.”
Donald grabbed her wrist and forced it away, then set his thumb on her chin. “I like the scar you try to hind behind your makeup.”
Thurma’s exhale came heavy. “Oh…”
“The stuff that puts other guys off, that’s the stuff that I like. You could say that’s from low-confidence, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s a preference.”
“Ok.”
“There’s no line I can say to make you want me, there’s no maneuver I can use that will get you to like me back.”
Thurma’s eyes fidgeted in Donald’s.
“I’m just saying that I’d like to get to know you. If that friend zones me, then fine-”
“You said it.”
“What?”
“About fifteen seconds ago. You said the line that won me.”
“Huh?”
“Kiss me dork.”
Donald moved in with a smirk, then gave Thurma a light peck on the cheek.
Thurma shook her head, then scolded him with a finger wag. “I swear to God, if that’s what you think it means to kiss a girl don’t ever-”
Donald slid his hand through her hair, raking her brunnette locks up in his fingers until he had his hand wrapped around the back of her head. He advanced until her forearm fell flat against his chest, then dug his lips into hers. Thurma’s eyes dropped closed and the phone she had been holding unraveled from her fingers and plummeted until it cracked against the sidewalk. She immediately pressed her newly-freed hand against the side of his face.
An obnoxious series of honks was followed by a loud holler:
“Fuck her already, bro!” Yelled Freddy.
Donald finally took a step back.
“Number,” said Thurma.
“I think your phone broke.”
“Ok.”
Donald smiled, then wrote his down on a wrinkled napkin he’d stored in his pocket. “Nice meeting you,” he said, then turned around and headed towards Freddy’s escalade. Once he took his seat Freddy sped away.
“You better get a tit-pit,” said Freddy.
Donald grinned and looked at him.
“What?” said Freddy.
“I’m the man,” said Donald.
“You’re a man, not sure if you’re the man.”
“No,” said Donald, before turning the bass up on Freddy’s sound system. “I’m the man.”
The End!
Hope you enjoyed.
- Thomas M. Watt
Donald and Thurma – Part 3
If you haven’t read part 1, start here.
If you haven’t read part 2, start here.
“Waddup bitches, see you’ve met my friend. Huge cock, case you were wondering. Name’s Freddy,” said Freddy, as he extended his hand out for the girls to shake.
Donald took Freddy’s hand, then yanked him along with him, away from the two girls. “Time to leave.”
“Strip club?” said Freddy.
The pair passed through the doorway, hurried by the smoke crowds, and headed toward the parking lot.
“She’s not feeling it. I don’t want to be here, this isn’t me,” said Donald.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Freddy. He stopped on the sidewalk. “If you want to leave to go somewhere else, that’s one thing, but if you wanna book it ’cause of some chick-”
“I know, I get it, that makes me a pussy.”
“Jeeze, Donald,” said Freddy. He looked his buddy in the eye. “I wasn’t gonna call you that, you know.”
“Ok.”
“Super pussy. That was it.” Freddy’s eyes bulged, and he pointed back toward the bar. “Look!”
Donald whirled around. The two girls were approaching, only Thurma walked stilted, like Amanda may have had a gun to her back.
“Bye I guess,” Thurma said to Donald, as they passed.
Donald waved back. “Nice meeting you,” he muttered after they were out of earshot.
“Is your dick for sale cause that shits in demand these days,” said Freddy.
“What are you talking about?”
“You leave. She leaves. She comes your way, wishes you a goodnight, checks out your package. What do you do? You rotate your hand like the slow-mix setting of a god-damned cake mixer.”
“She checked out my package?”
“Winked at it.”
Donald gulped, lightly patted his hair, then slid his hand along his button-down to smooth out the creases. He then shook his head and turned to Freddy.
“I’m only going over there if you’re one-hundred percent sure she’s interested.”
“Bro,” started Freddy. “Interests is for loaners. Girl is invested. You know who invests?”
“Stock-brokers?”
“Heart breakers.”
“What?”
“Shit rhymes, bro,” said Freddy. “Called a metaphorical simile.”
“Huh?”
Freddy kicked Donald in the ass, leading him to stumble off in the direction of Amanda and Thurma.
“Go get her heart-breaker,” said Freddy.
Donald caught himself then continued to follow his feet.”I think I can,” He said to himself. A new flurry of visuals played through his mind, the type he wasn’t accustomed to – confident images. He stopped thinking of himself as an inconvenience to the world around him, and began to entertain the possibility that he actually could make a girl happy, and maybe Thurma would be the one for him.
“I think I can,” he said to himself, chugging along the sidewalk tracks. “I think I can.”
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Donald and Thurma – Part 2
If you haven’t read part 1, start here.
Donald and Freddy sat at a back table, a beer to each of them.
“Who you keep staring at?” said Freddy.
Donald shook his head. “Nobody, forget it.”
“Don’t be a pussy. Who is it?”
“The girl I ran into at the door. She seemed nice.”
“We want bad bitches, not basic bitches. Where she at?”
Freddy poked his head up like an ostrich, prompting Amanda and Thurma to stop looking in Donald’s direction.
“The blonde or brunette?” said Freddy.
“God, you have to be so obvious?”
Freddy smacked Donald on the forearm. “You have to be such a bitch? Blonde one’s hotter, go for her.”
“No. I like the brunette,” said Donald, glancing at Thurma after he said it.
“Makes sense, you don’t have enough confidence to take down a tiger like that blonde. Girl got a dumper.”
“Tiger? Dumper? What?”
“Are you gonna go over there or just sit here and talk about going over there?” said Freddy.
Donald scratched the back of his head, then crossed his arms and sunk into the table. He took a sip of his drink.
“Let me finish my beer first. That way I have a reason to-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Freddy knocked the glass mug off the table. It shattered and the blue moon washed away.
“What the hell?” said Donald.
“Oh shit, looks like you need another drink! Now get your ass over there and talk to her.”
Donald bit his lips, checked out Thurma again, then stood up.
“Fine.”
“And remember-”
“What?”
“Be an asshole. Else you’ll be stuck in the friend zone again.”
Donald sighed. “Got it,” he said, then started over to the bar.
- * *
“Oh, he’s coming,” said Amanda, nudging her friend.
“Which one? The douche or the one who maybe lifeguards during rainy days in autumn?” said Thurma.
Amanda’s head bobbed back. “That was a pretty specific description.”
“Just tell me!”
“The tall one with the good-boy hair.”
“God no. Shit. I don’t want to do this. Come with me to the bathroom,” Thurma said, then stood up from her bar stool.
Amanda grabbed the bottom of her skirt and whipped it up.
“Stop!” Said Thurma, snapping back into her seat.
“Haha. You’re going through with this. Remember – demand respect.”
“By being a bitch?”
“Yep.”
“Oh shit. God dammit. Got it.”
The two went quiet, and Donald took the seat beside Thurma.
- * *
Donald turned to Thurma, and the two met eyes. Neither smiled, and both instantly looked straight ahead.
“Waddup,” said Donald.
“Who are you talking to?”
Donald looked at her. “Oh. Didn’t notice you there. You’re so short.”
Thurma raised her eyebrows, then turned to Amanda. Amanda pushed her so hard Thurma’s barstool rocked and sent her colliding into Donald.
Donald caught her in his arms. “Be careful! You okay… idiot?”
“Yeah, I – What?”
“What.”
Thurma pursed her lips together. “You’re not good enough for me. Bye.”
“Oh. Ok,” said Donald. He began looking around for Freddy, but his friend had disappeared from their table.
“Who are you looking for?” said Thurma, hands to her hips. “And why are you still here?” She brushed one of her curly brown locks back behind her ear, then stood with her hands at her hips.
“More… bitches,” said Donald.
“You’re looking for more bitches?”
“Yea. Badder ones. You’re a basic… be-yotch.”
“We prefer the to be called females.”
“Oh ok. I’m looking for more females.”
“You sound like a moron.”
“Ok,” said Donald. Both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, then stopped when they thought the other person would. Neither said anything, and both looked away.
“You’re kind of a b,” said Donald.
“A b?” said Thurma, before pressing her tongue into her teeth. “What’s that b stand for, eh?”
“I said ‘B’, not ‘A’.”
They both smiled and laughed.
Something gave Donald a sudden jolt forward, and his momentum sent him shoving Thurma into Amanda. Both girls spilled their drinks all over their dresses, then stared at Donald with shark jaws.
Wide-eyed, Donald slowly turned around to see who had shoved him.
“Waddup bitches, see you’ve met my friend. Huge cock, case you were wondering. Name’s Freddy,” said Freddy, as he extended his hand out for the girls to shake.
To be continued…
– Thomas M. Watt
Thomas M. Watt 