Anonymous

The Perfect Husband

CHAPTER 1

I suffered a head injury as a kid when my parents got into a car accident. After that, I was never the same. Mama says God made me handsome as compensation for making me dumb, but grandpa says my parents fucked up my head when they didn’t put on my seatbelt.

Because my dick is ridiculously long, my wife has always fantasized about catching me masturbating, so on our 25 th Wedding Anniversary I decided to give her a show. But it hit some snags. First I got yelled at. Stuff like, “Dad! Not during dinner!” or “First Red Lobster, now Olive Garden? You know I hate Bennigans!”

You know, shit like that.

I tried to blame all the ruckus on the adorable waitress without success — thank God grandma insisted on coming along. The more Alzheimer’s takes her, the more useful she becomes. If it weren’t for her wicked right hook, I wouldn’t avoid her so much.

My show sputtered early because the people at the other tables demanded I pull my drawers up. Even the town stripper suggested I stop traumatizing her first grade class. I wouldn’t have fallen so much if my oldest son didn’t keep shaking the table I was dancing on. I nearly lost my dignity when I lost my balance and crashed into the young black couple next to us.

Someone hit me, so I struck back — how was I to know my bling got stuck in her blouse? Nice fucking cleavage, though. Except the bruise I left. I do regret exploding her fake tit over his lasagna. That was totally my bad. I haven’t been that embarrassed since my parents last visited.

But I forgot Ol’ Miss Sphincterhead now managed the place. The guys called her that because — and I’m reading from notes now — 1) she seemed to meet the definition of an anatomical structure that maintains constriction of a body orifice for the entrance or release of liquids; 2) she had the mouth of a marine mammal blowhole; and 3) because I couldn’t pronounce her last name. Some Nazi name like Schadenfreude. I don’t know. I didn’t take Prussian in school. All I know is that she derived so much pleasure from the misfortune of others that she should have had her own reality show.

You’d think she’d cut me some slack because I let her pee on me in high school, but noooooo, she angrily kicked me out of the lady’s bathroom the day she quit being a teacher.

In front of my family, that tiny old white lady called me so many terrible things that I called her “mom” out of pure reflex. That’s when it got bad because, really, no one that ugly should be a mother. If it wasn’t for liquor she’d never get laid. Her kids turned out so bad that the town’s missing person posters drained all sympathy for their plight. Turned out they skipped town of their own volition. If they didn’t become famous on that teenage mom show, we never would have remembered they existed.

But Ol’ Sphincterhead wouldn’t be forgotten. No matter how many times kids write over her name on her mailbox. No, she was as much a part of this town as HPV.