With A Bang and A Flash

"Well that was a fine speech Counsellor, but one that begs the obvious question. Why is it my cum running down your leg?"

At least Kate had the humanity to give this some thought. There was a good half a minute of silence.

"I guess I just miss being single. I didn't get married until I was 31 and was a bit of a wild girl. I miss just going into a bar and getting hit on by a variety of guys. The thrill of leading a guy on then deciding on impulse if he's going to score or not. Every second weekend lately Dave has been going deer shooting with his buddies. Three weekends ago I decided to go for a trip down memory lane and hit a bar. That led to a one night stand which was kinda all right, but unsatisfying. Then last Saturday I happened to go to the bar where you were and so here we are."

"Christ that's cold Kate."

"Just think of it as the last hurrah. Anyway what are you complaining about Mr Big Dick. Come here, I said it had to end today, I didn't say it had to end right now."

I turned off the audio. I knew there would be no more intelligent conversation. At least now I knew I was a good lover and husband. The problem wasn't me.

The next days were an anticlimax. After two days the reporters demobbed and left my quiet street. I did get a phone call from a hospital administrator passing on a message that Kate would like some of her pyjamas. I passed on that one. She could put up with those humiliating hospital issue gowns.

Two days later her father rang me. He apologised for his daughter's behaviour and hoped I would stay in touch. To try to sweeten the deal, he reminded me that he did have another daughter and she was recently divorced. Sorry Dad, just too weird.

Four days after the event it was back on the news again. Mr Not So Big Dick was released from hospital. The journos had done some digging and exposed him as a serial cheater. Thus they took some delight in announcing that although the surgeons managed to sew his manhood back on, it was very unlikely that it would achieve at least one of its designed functions.

At the end of that week I received a surprise visitor. Mrs Barton, or Sarah as she insisted I called her, was a fine looking lady with sad eyes. She told me that she'd heard a rumour that I may have some evidence that may help her in her divorce case. I explained that maybe I did but couldn't admit to it without incriminating myself. She understood and was very apologetic for asking. I told her I thought there was such a glut of circumstantial evidence that she wouldn't need what I had. If that proved wrong then I urged her to come back and I might reconsider. She had such a sadness about her that I took pity. Pulling the video file up, I played her just the aftermath of the big bang. The shock at her husband's screams made her cringe initially but she soon rallied. Suffice it to say, when she left the sadness was gone. Being the helpful guy I am, I invited her to come over whenever the sadness returned for a pick-me-up. Oh yes, that wasn't the last time I would be seeing Sarah Barton.

The last visitor I received was probably the strangest. On Saturday I answered the door to the detective that I'd talked to at the house on the day of the big event. Gone was the suit, just jeans and shirt.

"Hi son, no I won't come in. I just wanted to say that with insufficient evidence I have recommended the case be closed."

At my thanks he turned to walk away then paused and looked back.

"Look, I'll be retiring at the end of the year. If I come back after that, would you tell me how you did it?"

I just smiled and bid him good day.

The letter from Kate arrived the following Tuesday.

My Dearest Dave

I cannot tell you how ashamed and sorry I am for what I did to you. I fully understand why you haven't been able to bring yourself to visit me and I forgive you without reservation.

I never thought of the full extent of possible repercussions for my actions. I certainly never knew my parents would virtually disown me over the phone.

I know that I have forever lost your love, trust and respect which hurts me more than I can possibly describe. I understand if you don't ever want to speak to me again but it may help your recovery if you allow me to explain why I did what I did. Just be assured it was all my fault. It's your choice, you know where I will be for a while.

The doctors say I won't be able to speak properly for a long time, if ever. They think I swallowed the tip of my tongue when I bit it off. They are telling me about some experimental stretching technique that may restore some function. I hope it works so I can at least return to my career as some distraction from the dreary, loveless, childless future I now face.

Ask for anything you like in the divorce and I will sign it. If you could find it in your heart to keep me on your medical insurance for the near future I would be eternally grateful.

Goodbye my love. I wish you nothing but happiness in the future. I hope I haven't totally wrecked yours as well.

Yours

Kate

(aka your cheating slut wife)

I must say, the letter moved me. So much that I immediately decided to reverse a previous decision. I thought long and hard. Fuck it, I would drop her pyjamas off at the hospital. Now where is Mick and Pete's phone numbers, I owe them a beer? A keg each should do it.

The end

Sorry I couldn't slip in a joke into this one like I normally do so here goes.

There was an Australian comedian around in the 80s that I wish to acknowledge as heavily influencing my sense of humour. This is one of Rodney Rude's.

Person A to his friend B: "Grandfather got badly burnt yesterday."

Person B: "How bad?"

Person A: "Well they don't fuck around at the crematorium."