232 The Good Girl

I'm a good girl.

Barefoot and pregnant, I await my man in anticipation. His slippers ready, I've mixed his Scotch and water perfectly.

He gets upset about the electricity bill, so I've kept the thermostat at 85°F all the sweltering day. He'd flip his shit if he knew how I vacuumed naked.

Not to mention dipping just a bit into his Scotch. Baby doesn't mind.

His underwear, tighty-whiteys, are folded in on themselves just right. Sometimes it's hard to bleach away the skid marks, because, well, he's a man.

But he's my man, skid marks and all.

The place is spotless, as it sure as hell better be. I have time to apply makeup to my black eye and check my tongue to see how well it's healing after biting it so hard.

I open up my secret cellphone, in case he were to find it; I duly erase all of the text messages. In fact, I reboot it back to its factory settings. Like it's never been used. Before I do, however, I check his location. (That was an easy-enough spy thing to do on my part.)

He's out with her again, no doubt. Working late at his office—yea, right. His air conditioned office. That reminds me to get dressed and be beautiful before he gets home.

I hear his keys jingling. I hear the bolt sliding. I hear the doorknob twirl with a bit of a scrape.

"You didn't WD-40 this yet?" he scowls. I smile.

"I did," I lie. "I'll do it again."

"When?"

"Um," I stammer.

"Right now, right?"

"Yes, my love." I fetch the WD-40 and let it seep in the interface between the knob axle and the housing. The squeak fades away like a country song that ends out so sadly.

"What's for dinner?" he demands.

"Your favorite," I assure him.

"Better be," he warns me. I swallow hard, because tonight he's eating crow.

Yes, I'm a good girl. And he's a good man.

But now he's a good-and-dead man.

I sit here in my cell, in a prison that is so much better than the one I was in before. It's a commutation, and I'm back to factory settings.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Monday, August 19, Day 232 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Accompaniment photos were AI-generated but the marriage was snot.

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THIS CHALLENGE GRINDS ON, 366 WORDS AT A TIME...

There are currently three surviving prolific, pretentious, promiscuous, and copacetic Vocal scribbling scribes still participating in the insane, inane, pro-connubial 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer, (challenge originator)

• Rachel Deeming (challenge participant)

• Gerard DiLeo (Goosetepper-denier)

Read them. Support them. And don't forget theWD-40.