Chapter 1

I was working 12 to 16 hours a day to be successful for us. She worked a regular 40 hour week at her job. I had been on this schedule for the past six months and the only things that kept me going was Deb’s love and the time we spent together on weekends.

I would sleep in a little late on Saturday morning and then we would take off and do our grocery shopping, stopping for an ice cream cone or a sundae. Saturday night we would go out for dinner and then hit a movie or go listen to some live music.

However, this Saturday didn’t start off the same way. When I got up, Deb was already dressed in a cute outfit, with a nice blouse and slacks.

“Deb’s? Did I sleep that late? Wait a sec and I’ll get a shower and be ready to go.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m going to spend the day with some of my girlfriends.”

“I can get ready really fast and join all of you.”

“No. They are MY friends. I’m going to take some time for myself. I need some time with my friends.”

“Why can’t you spend time with them after work, while I am still at work? The weekends are supposed to be for us, because of my schedule.”

“Well not today. I’ll see you later.”

And with not so much as an ‘I love you’ or a ‘kiss my ass’ she was out the door to the garage, in her car and gone. I stood there stunned for the longest time. What had just happened? I turned and walked out of the kitchen, but stopped just short of the door because something caught my eye.

It was the flashing message light on our answering machine. We had a land line as a part of our cable package. I never used it, hell, I didn’t even know the number. I hit the “Play” button and listened to the new message. Deb must have picked up the phone after the machine had already started.

Well there it was. She was cheating on me with my boss. I had been taking all of the hours I could get to save money for our future and now that was gone.

I lost it. I walked into the dining room and just as I reached the table, I felt weak in the knees. I rested my hands on the big table that Deb’s folks had bought for us, so that we could host the big holiday dinners and save them the work. A sudden rush of rage hit me and I flipped the heavy wood table over, then picked up one of the chairs and threw it into the window, where it broke the glass, tore the curtain and stuck there.

I grabbed another chair and beat it down on one of the table legs. That broke the chair and loosened the table leg. Still enraged, I grabbed the heavy wooden table leg and bent it back and forth until it broke free, giving me a sizable, heavy club. Wielding the leg like a club, I moved through the house and began to break things. The first thing was our wedding picture, then her parents picture. Then all the contents of the curio cabinet with all of the things we brought back from our honeymoon and various vacations.

I went to the bedroom and threw the stool for her make up table through the mirror behind it. Then I smashed the mirror on the door, then the one in the bathroom. I pulled all the drawers out of the dressers and threw them on the floor, smashing them with the large table leg. I broke some of the drywall when I smashed the pictures Deb had hung.

I flipped the mattress off the bed and lifted the bed frame and smashed it down several times until it broke, then I beat the headboard to a pulp with the table leg that was now showing scars and signs that it might split.

Giving my weapon a rest, I began to pick up Deb’s underwear off the floor and I began ripping her panties to shreds as well as her bras. The dresses and blouses in her closet were next. When I had exhausted myself in the bedroom, I moved back to the living room and threw an end table through one of the picture windows.

I destroyed every lamp in every room, then moved back to the dining room and began smashing her china, then breaking the remaining chairs. Then I used the table leg to destroy anything I looked at. Every window, plant, picture. In the kitchen, every dish, plate, cup was smashed.

Finally, exhausted, I walked out to the garage and got in my car and was thinking about driving out through the garage door, but decided that I liked my car too much. I opened the door, backed out and before I closed the garage door, I entered a new scrambled the security code that I didn’t care to remember.

I drove away and went to the sports bar that Deb and I would go to on the weekend to watch football or hockey. I ordered a Shiner Bock and sat there watching some stupid baseball game (I hate baseball) and wondered how long it would take for her to get done fucking my boss and return to the house. I sat through one game and well into another before my phone rang. The caller ID showed Deb’s name and I watched it. After several chimes, it went to voicemail and I waited. Finally, I tapped the voicemail icon and listened to the message.

“Paul! Where are you? Something has happened at the house! Everything is smashed! Please call me.”

She sounded worried. I began to wonder what I should do next. Should I just bail out and drive away? Should I call her back? Should I go to my bosses house and tell his wife? Yeah, I decided that I was going to do that regardless. Should I kill them both? Should I kill myself?

Finally, I decided the best thing to do was to just go home and see what she would say to my face. I’d had only had three beers over the past four hours and I’d eaten a big cheeseburger and onion rings, so I wasn’t impaired at all. I parked on the street in front of the house, because I didn’t pay attention to the scrambled garage door code. Deb’s car was in the driveway.

I walked to the door and stopped to think. Ring the bell or just walk in? I heard a crash and decided to ring the bell. I heard cussing and another crash and then the door flew open.

“What do you wan ... Paul! Where have you been?” Deb’s initial scream toned down when she realized it was me.

I walked into the house and evaluated my carnage. Deb had tried to pick up some stuff. Our wedding pictures and her parents pictures were back on the mantle but they were laying down and the frames were mangled.

“Hi Deb. This place looks like shit!” I said trying to sound amazed as I picked up the leg I had broken off the dining room table.

“What the fuck? Where have you been? I called and left a message.”

“I know. Oh! Speaking of messages, there was a message left for you on the answering machine.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” She screamed at my lack of interest in the houses condition.

“You should. I sure did.”

She walked through the broken glass and dishes and furniture, and hit the play button on the machine. The conversation she had this morning with my boss played through. As she listened she leaned on the counter that held the machine and cradled her head in her hands. When it was done, she stood there frozen in place for the longest time.

“Paul?”

“Yes, I did all this after I listened to it.”

“Why?”

“Exactly! Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING PHONE!”

She staggered back from my verbal attack, before going to the kitchen to get her phone out of her purse. I grabbed the phone from her and pulled up her text messages.

“Hilton Room 433.”

“Thanks.”

Setting the phone on the counter next to the answering machine and I then crushed it with the table leg, before removing the answering machine from the power socket and phone jack and walking towards the front door.

“If you find a way to call your lover, let him know that I am really looking forward to seeing him at work on Monday,” I said as threateningly as I could.

I think I heard a thud as I stepped out the front door and walked to my car. I swung by the local Wal-Mart and bought some underwear, socks, jeans and a couple of flannel shirts. I didn’t want to have to step foot back in the house until after Monday.

My next move was to head to the Hilton. I asked for room 433 and spent Saturday and Sunday night in the Honeymoon Suite running up a nice sized bill on the credit card. I sat in the hot tube and I think the water got hotter the longer I sat in it with the thought about my boss and wife fucking in it only hours earlier.

On Sunday afternoon my phone rang and I answered it to hear Deb’s voice.

“Paul! Please don’t hang up. I’m sorry. I was so stupid. I didn’t think about the consequences.”

“Well you should have. Have you passed my message on to your lover?”

“He isn’t my lover.”

“He called you Lover. You said you loved him. Did you give him my message?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Thank you.” I hung up.

The phone rang again. I figured what the hell and answered it.

“Hello.”

“Paul. Don’t do anything that will get you thrown in jail.”

“Doesn’t matter. Hell it shouldn’t matter to you if I get shot by the police. You and I are already dead to each other.”

“No! We are NOT dead to each other.”

“Really? So the house wasn’t a big enough hint, huh?”

“Paul. I’m sorry.”

“Yup, you are that.”

I hung up.

Monday morning I got up early, showered and dressed in my new clothes and went to the hotel lobby restaurant and ate a hearty meal at the buffet. I was due to be at work at 8AM, but today, today I was going to be late. If Deb really gave my boss the message I sent, the suspense was going to kill him.

My first move after breakfast, took me to my credit union, where I opened new checking and savings accounts. I left the $25 minimum in the old savings account and left $10 in checking, moving everything else to new accounts in my name only. They have the ability to print out a new ATM card right there, so I was able to leave the credit union with a new card and financially in solid shape.

My next move was to call the office and ask for my boss. When he picked up the phone I laughed and hung up. That ought to get his attention. Then, since I knew he was at work, I rang the door bell at his house and introduced myself to his wife.

“Hi Mrs. Larson. My name is Paul O’Dell and your husband has been fucking my soon to be ex-wife. If you would allow me to plug in this answering machine, I’ll let you listen to the proof.”

After staring at me for several seconds, she let me in and after listening to the message, she offered me a cup of coffee, which I turned down. I explained my work situation to her and how long that had been going on. I promised to send her a copy of the tape recording and left with her following me in her car, to my company. I parked in the lot at work and walked to the entrance, where Davey, the security guard, stopped me.

“I’m sorry, Mr. O’Dell. Mr. Larson came down and told us that you had been let go. You are no longer employed here and are not allowed in.”

“That’s fine, Davey. This is Mr. Larson’s wife. She would like to see him. I can wait here.”

Larissa Larson walked past Davey and went straight into her husbands office, where all hell broke loose. A chair came flying through his office door’s window and security quickly ignored me and ran to the ruckus. I followed the security guys and was laughing at Mr. Peter “Lover” Larson. Larissa Larson had her husband hiding on the floor behind his desk and she was busy destroying everything she could get her hands on.