Bloody Hell!
I'm writing a new story. This is the first chapter. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
JD
Chapter One
My shit was all over the lawn when I got home from work Monday afternoon. My favorite pair of shoes was being dragged around by my two-year old. He was smiling; swinging one loafer like it was the sling that killed Goliath. My suits were soaking in the wet grass beneath my automatic sprinkler system. My garage was torn apart: tools strewn out across the floor, my very expensive saws smashed to pieces, my books burning in a metal barrel, and all my papers, designs, drawings, and two models I was especially proud of were chopped and pulverized. It looked like a demon had torn the walls apart with his claws.
When I stepped inside things were even worse. My office was demolished: books strewn out across the floor, precious baubles broken against the walls, my computer monitor shattered, and-to let me know just how much I’d fucked up-my favorite sweater was covered in shit-filled, cat litter. I dragged it out from beneath the pile, brushed it off, and gave it a tentative sniff. I vomited in the wastebasket.
My wife walked past the office. She was carrying my cat, Fritz, out to the garage. In her other hand she had a butcher knife. Past the gagging I tried to call her name. “Au-Audrey!” She stopped in the office doorway brandishing the knife in one hand as if she wanted to throw it at me. I looked up at her and tried to speak, but all I could do was cough. From her reply, I doubt she wanted to talk things out.
“Fuck you, Tom!” And she stomped off to the garage.
I followed behind her, still choking from the stench of the cat litter. She had placed my cat’s head on one of my saw tables, raised the knife high into the air, and swung down. I grabbed on to Fritz’s tail and right-rear leg and pulled as hard as I could. The cat came free with a yelp, and the knife sunk into the thick wood of the table.
“What the fuck is your problem, Audrey?” She stared at me for a few seconds, closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and threw the knife at my head. I ducked out of the way and the knife fell to the floor without harming anyone. “What’s wrong?”
“Haven’t you figured it out! I’m leaving you. But before I did, I just wanted to pay you back for ruining my life.” Audrey yelled clichés at me as she walked back into the house. By the front door sat two suitcases. Audrey’s clothes had been slammed into one suitcase. In much the same way, Audrey had put our son’s toys and clothing in the other.
“I’m going to stay with my mother. I’m taking Henry with me. If you try to stop me, so help me God, I will call the police and have you arrested.” Without letting me speak, she walked out the door and slammed it in my face. I watched as she packed her suitcases into her car, grabbed my son, and whisked him down the road towards her mother’s house. Fritz looked up at me but didn’t speak; he just stared at me and bared his teeth. I picked him up and began to pet him.
“You don’t have anything to be upset about. You’re still alive.” As if he had conceded my point, he yawned, then snuggled deeper into my arms. I patted his black fur and began looking around my house to see if my wife had destroyed anything else. Of course the fact that she had destroyed anything didn’t matter. It would all be gone in a few days, regardless of whether Audrey torched it or not.
Upstairs everything was fine. The only article of clothing not soaking on the lawn was my wedding tuxedo. I didn’t understand why she hadn’t destroyed it, but something had prompted her to leave it in the closet. It was possible she only wanted it left there to remind me of what I had lost. I didn’t need the reminder. She had moved it to the center of the clothes rack next to her wedding dress. The dress was died red; still dripping. At the foot of the dress was a puddle of water and dye. Her wedding ring was hanging around the neck of the hangar, and a small note, folded in half, was tied underneath the golden band. I opened it, read the message on the piece of paper, then crumpled it and threw it on the ground. I took down the ring, put it on my pinky finger-even though it would only fit down to the knuckle-and took off my clothing. I got dressed into my tux. It was a little loose around the waist, so I had to cinch it down with the faded, brown belt I’d worn to work that day.
I walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed. The walls were barren. The pictures of our wedding and our trip to Europe were all gone, replaced by my sons exquisite crayon drawings. Most of them were just squiggles and wavy lines. One drawing looked kind of like a dog, but it was hard to tell. There was only one picture left; a picture of Audrey and my friend Tyler. It was in Disneyland when we had gone together. He’d brought his young daughter. He had probably fucked my wife during that trip, probably for the first time. I leapt off the bed and punched the picture into the wall. The glass shattered easily, but only left one cut on my pointer-finger knuckle. My fist held the picture, suspended against the wall. I let it drop. I didn’t even hear the thump of the picture hitting the ground. I walked back into the closet, picked up the piece of crumpled paper, smoothed it out, and read it one more time. It said, “I’ve been sleeping with someone else. Guess who?” I chuckled, folded the paper, and put it in my pants pocket.
I moved out of the closet and went to my dresser. I opened the uppermost drawer. She hadn’t touched my underwear or socks. They were still lying in an unorganized heap in the middle of the drawer. I dug through them, found my grandfather’s revolver, and opened the cylinder to see if there were any bullets left. The cylinder was full, so I closed the revolver, sat on my bed, and put the gun to my temple-and my doorbell rang! I cocked the gun and squeezed slowly on the trigger. The doorbell rang again. I put the gun down on the bed. I went to the window, opened it, and saw my next-door neighbor, Bill, hitting the doorbell again.
“Bill! What is it?”
“Oh! Heya Tom. Did you realize your garage is on fire?”
“No. Thanks Bill.” I slammed the window so hard a pane of glass shattered.
Back on my bed, gun in hand, I cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger.
JD
Chapter One
My shit was all over the lawn when I got home from work Monday afternoon. My favorite pair of shoes was being dragged around by my two-year old. He was smiling; swinging one loafer like it was the sling that killed Goliath. My suits were soaking in the wet grass beneath my automatic sprinkler system. My garage was torn apart: tools strewn out across the floor, my very expensive saws smashed to pieces, my books burning in a metal barrel, and all my papers, designs, drawings, and two models I was especially proud of were chopped and pulverized. It looked like a demon had torn the walls apart with his claws.
When I stepped inside things were even worse. My office was demolished: books strewn out across the floor, precious baubles broken against the walls, my computer monitor shattered, and-to let me know just how much I’d fucked up-my favorite sweater was covered in shit-filled, cat litter. I dragged it out from beneath the pile, brushed it off, and gave it a tentative sniff. I vomited in the wastebasket.
My wife walked past the office. She was carrying my cat, Fritz, out to the garage. In her other hand she had a butcher knife. Past the gagging I tried to call her name. “Au-Audrey!” She stopped in the office doorway brandishing the knife in one hand as if she wanted to throw it at me. I looked up at her and tried to speak, but all I could do was cough. From her reply, I doubt she wanted to talk things out.
“Fuck you, Tom!” And she stomped off to the garage.
I followed behind her, still choking from the stench of the cat litter. She had placed my cat’s head on one of my saw tables, raised the knife high into the air, and swung down. I grabbed on to Fritz’s tail and right-rear leg and pulled as hard as I could. The cat came free with a yelp, and the knife sunk into the thick wood of the table.
“What the fuck is your problem, Audrey?” She stared at me for a few seconds, closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and threw the knife at my head. I ducked out of the way and the knife fell to the floor without harming anyone. “What’s wrong?”
“Haven’t you figured it out! I’m leaving you. But before I did, I just wanted to pay you back for ruining my life.” Audrey yelled clichés at me as she walked back into the house. By the front door sat two suitcases. Audrey’s clothes had been slammed into one suitcase. In much the same way, Audrey had put our son’s toys and clothing in the other.
“I’m going to stay with my mother. I’m taking Henry with me. If you try to stop me, so help me God, I will call the police and have you arrested.” Without letting me speak, she walked out the door and slammed it in my face. I watched as she packed her suitcases into her car, grabbed my son, and whisked him down the road towards her mother’s house. Fritz looked up at me but didn’t speak; he just stared at me and bared his teeth. I picked him up and began to pet him.
“You don’t have anything to be upset about. You’re still alive.” As if he had conceded my point, he yawned, then snuggled deeper into my arms. I patted his black fur and began looking around my house to see if my wife had destroyed anything else. Of course the fact that she had destroyed anything didn’t matter. It would all be gone in a few days, regardless of whether Audrey torched it or not.
Upstairs everything was fine. The only article of clothing not soaking on the lawn was my wedding tuxedo. I didn’t understand why she hadn’t destroyed it, but something had prompted her to leave it in the closet. It was possible she only wanted it left there to remind me of what I had lost. I didn’t need the reminder. She had moved it to the center of the clothes rack next to her wedding dress. The dress was died red; still dripping. At the foot of the dress was a puddle of water and dye. Her wedding ring was hanging around the neck of the hangar, and a small note, folded in half, was tied underneath the golden band. I opened it, read the message on the piece of paper, then crumpled it and threw it on the ground. I took down the ring, put it on my pinky finger-even though it would only fit down to the knuckle-and took off my clothing. I got dressed into my tux. It was a little loose around the waist, so I had to cinch it down with the faded, brown belt I’d worn to work that day.
I walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed. The walls were barren. The pictures of our wedding and our trip to Europe were all gone, replaced by my sons exquisite crayon drawings. Most of them were just squiggles and wavy lines. One drawing looked kind of like a dog, but it was hard to tell. There was only one picture left; a picture of Audrey and my friend Tyler. It was in Disneyland when we had gone together. He’d brought his young daughter. He had probably fucked my wife during that trip, probably for the first time. I leapt off the bed and punched the picture into the wall. The glass shattered easily, but only left one cut on my pointer-finger knuckle. My fist held the picture, suspended against the wall. I let it drop. I didn’t even hear the thump of the picture hitting the ground. I walked back into the closet, picked up the piece of crumpled paper, smoothed it out, and read it one more time. It said, “I’ve been sleeping with someone else. Guess who?” I chuckled, folded the paper, and put it in my pants pocket.
I moved out of the closet and went to my dresser. I opened the uppermost drawer. She hadn’t touched my underwear or socks. They were still lying in an unorganized heap in the middle of the drawer. I dug through them, found my grandfather’s revolver, and opened the cylinder to see if there were any bullets left. The cylinder was full, so I closed the revolver, sat on my bed, and put the gun to my temple-and my doorbell rang! I cocked the gun and squeezed slowly on the trigger. The doorbell rang again. I put the gun down on the bed. I went to the window, opened it, and saw my next-door neighbor, Bill, hitting the doorbell again.
“Bill! What is it?”
“Oh! Heya Tom. Did you realize your garage is on fire?”
“No. Thanks Bill.” I slammed the window so hard a pane of glass shattered.
Back on my bed, gun in hand, I cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger.