tangible melancholy.

nick s.
https://www.angelfire.com/on/thereliables/

smellyjoe1@aol.com

https://www.angelfire.com/on/thereliables/
smellyjoe1@aol.com

“Go suck it off your dead fucking grandpa asshole!” “What the fuck did you just say to me bitch? What the fuck did you just say? You want me to throw this iron at your whore ass head? Is that what you fucking want?” Stanly raised the iron once more as a threat to Sylvia. He shouted thes threats as he did every night. Last night he had threatened to smash her head in with a hammer because she had burnt his best shirt while ironing it. “You know what Stanly? You fucking know what? You threaten me one more time, just one more goddamn time and I will cut your balls off.” “I would like to see that, bitch. You take one step towards me and this iron’s gonna turn that pretty little face of yours into a big pile of shit you whore!” Every night when Stanly threatened to throw her off a the Bay Bridge, push her out of the car on the freeway, of bash her head in, Sylvia would threaten to cut his balls off. She almost did once. She pounced on Stanly, and wrenched coffee pot in hand away. She slammed his head back onto the floor and sat down on it. “Get your fucking ass off my fucking face and leave my goddamn balls alone you nasty whore!” he had screamed. His eyes were watering and sweat ccame to his upper lip. “Shut the fuck up Stanly.” Sylvia retaliated as she loosened his belt. “This isn’t funny Sylvia!” Down went his fly. “Sylvie, baby. Please don’t cut off my balls. I’ll do anything.” She pulled out his balls and raised her knife. As she angled it he started to cry. “No don’t cut…no…keep my balls….” He started to murmer like a baby as the knife neared. “Oh fine, I won’t cut your fucking balls off, asshole.” She stabbed him in the leg instead. He screamed and blood poored out onto the cheap rug. Good thing she sprayed it with Scotch-guard. Sylvia tossed the knife in the sink and got undressed. Stanly looked at her with pleading eyes. “No Stanly. I’m not going to fuck you tonight. And your sleeping on the fucking floor tonight.” She went upstairs and fell right asleep. Stanly stared at the floor in agonizing pain. His mind began to go numb and eventually went out for the night. Tonight wasn’t quite so eventful however. Wel, to most it would seem eventful, but to Stanly and Sylvia it was just like any other night. Stanly got real hot and threw the iron at the wall. It made a big dent in the wall but didn’t break. Sylvia asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. If he wanted her dead, gone. She threw the knife down as she collapsed on the floor in a heap of tears. “Aw Sylvie, goddamnit. Don’t cry. You’ll go and wake up Andrew. Do you want to wake up Andrew? Huh? Is that what you really want? He’ll come in here all curious and say ‘Momma? papa? You guys okay? It’s real loud down here.’ And then he’ll see you crying on the fuckin-” “Momma? Poppa? What’s going on down here? I heard a big bang and got scared. Are there monsters or burgalers down here?” Andrew was six and had frequent nightmares. Once every few weeks he would come downstairs and see his parents in this state. “No Andrew honey,” Sylvia half whispered throught drying tears, “everythings fine. There aren’t any monsters. Just go back to bed.” “But Momma, why are you crying?” “She wasn’t crying Andrew. Momma just lost a contact. That’s all. Just go to bed. I’ll tuck you in. When Momma finds her contact she’ll come up and we’ll read you Goodnight Moon.” “Momma shure does lose her contacts a lot Daddy. Why doesn’t she get glasses. They could probably be easier to look for because they’re not see-through. Huh Momma.” “Shure sweetie. Just go up to bed.” “You look sad Momma.” “Andrew, I told you. Momma just lost a contact. Now go-” Here is where Andrews contribution to the water-works comes in. He goes over to Sylvia and touches her shoulder. He tries to look at her face but she hides it. “Andrew! Go to bed now!” bellows Stanly with rising hostility. “Do what Stanly says Andrew.” “But momma-” “Go to your mother fucking bed right now or I will throw you against the goddamn wall Andrew!” “But, but what about Momma?” Andrew asked, half shrieking. “That is it Andrew!” Everything stopped it the room. Syvia looked at Andrew and vice-versa. Andrew had pleading eyes. They said, ‘Momma, don’t let dad kill me again.’ But there was nothing Sylvia could do. Stanly was approaching faster now. Andrew bit his lower lip. Stanly grapped him forcefully by the ankles and lifted him upside down. Stanly swung him over his head and SMACK! The poor little bastard’s head hit the wall and cracked open like a big fat melon. The deep breaking sound resonated throughout the house and echoed a three times. The fissure grew back across Andrew’s head and opened to the right and left. As the crack opened fluid poured out. First a stream of blood, them a torrent of meninges, and finally Andrew’s brain slapped the Scotch-guarded carpet. Andrew’s limp little body fell to the floor as the sangric puddle of wine grew and grew. At this point Sylvia and Stanly were already upstairs fucking. They hated eachother but were addicted to eachother’s bodies. They craved sex. Throughout the huge suburban mansion the banging of the matress could be heard. “Oh god Stanly. Fuck me harder. Oh! Oh! Stick the iron dildo in my ass and- oh yeah, there it is.” “Aren’t you glad that you didn’t cut my fucking balls off?” He laid this question out on the bed, not expecting it to be answered as he thrust his sweaty pelvis up and down, moving his penis through her, turning his hand in circles. To the onlooker, this appears very intimate, the pinnacle of inter-personal love. But this was not the situation with Sylvia and Stanly. They were enjoying the feel of eachother’s bodies, but they were really thinking about fucking themselves. Stanly, in fact was all for the cloning industry. He wanted to clone himself, get the clone cut into a woman, chain it to a bed, kill Sylvia, and then fuck the clone relentlessly. He wished that he could explore his own body. Sylvia, while sucking off Stanly, or letting him enter her, was actually trying to personify her ego and picture how it would fuck her. These were two pathologically self-crazed ego maniacs if there ever was such a thing. In the morning Sylvia woke up to the sunrising at six thirty. She emmitted a petite little yawn and then turned over to Stanly. “Time to get up Stan. We gotta go to work.” “Okay. Make me some fucking coffee and grape nuts.” “Whatever. Fucking asshole.” “What the hell did you just say.” “I said good fucking morning, now get the hell out of bed.” Stanly went straight to the shower. He turned the heat way up and masturbated as loud as he could. Just to piss off Sylvia, if she was listening. Sylvia went downstairs to make breakfast for all three of them. Nothing big, just cereal, toast, and coffee. Andrew liked his extra dark. When Sylvia reached the bottom of the stairs, Andrew was right where he had fallen. The television was sitting over the hole in his head taking a big shit. You see, Andrew’s brain gets to be less and less everytime Stanly kills him, so the television sees it as an opportunity to get a new lover. It shits in Andrew’s head to replace the missing brain pieces. The shit operated well enough to keep Andrew functioning, but all though which is intellectual or of high organization is made impossible. Furthermore, Andrew becomes dependent on the television to tell him what to do. Andrew can’t make decisions anymore. He doesn’t mind though. He loves the television. It takes the place of his missing parents. Andrew got up and thanked the television. He looked around groggy eyed for a moment and then walked over to Sylvia. “Good morning momma. Did you find your contact?” “I sure did sweetheart. Did you sleep well.” “Uh huh.” Stanly stepped quickly and lightly down the stairs. He looked refreshed. Last nights fuck really rejuvinated him. Everyone knows that by dusk he’ll be an animal again though. “Hey tiger! Ready for school?” “Yeah papa! I sure am. Miss Candenberg is gonna talk about dinosaurs today.” “Wow. That ought to be really cool.” Stanly and Sylvia both drank their creamed coffee. Andrew looked at them while they drank, and then guzzed down his dark black coffee. Stanly headed out the door first. He was the manager of a big company that had just opened up factories in China and Indonesia. He was going to be busy all day. He was followed shortly by Sylvia, who was the biggest real estate agent in the state. After they had both left, Andrew drank some more coffee. He liked it when it was so hod it burned his tongue, and gave him ulcers in his stomach. He drank two pots of it, and then filled his lunch box up with candy bars and beef. It was an expensive lunch box. It was made by Smith and Wesson, and had a picture of a candy-striped gun on the front. The thermos looked like a nuclear warhead. After putting on his back-pack made of recycled uranium, he headed out the door. It was going to be a long day.