Annabelle

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Promises made, a promise kept.
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Diesel fumes hung over the trailer park like a cloud, courtesy of Interstate 95, as the tractor trailer convoys rumbled through the night. It was as close to hell on earth as Mike Stone could ever have imagined, yet here he was...

Corporate downsizing during this infinite recession had robbed him of a cushy advertising job. Just two years out of college, he had neither the experience nor the contacts to survive. The unemployment checks had run out, and he was forced to go to plan Z.

Sharing the smelly run down trailer with him was his wife, his college sweetheart, Annabelle. She was the only daughter of a Memphis minister and the love of his life. He had nabbed her at a fraternity mixer as a freshman, before she had blossomed. At 18, Annabelle had a short bob hairdo, mousey glasses, an overabundance of pimples, a plump ass, but a beautiful personality. Mike instantly recognized from their first real conversation, as she batted her eyelashes, that she was shy and sweet and had an angelic face.

Mike had been on the swim team in high school and had a well developed chest and arms, to go along with his charm and dimples. As he handed her that first cup of punch, touching her arm in the crowded living room, Annabelle knew that Mike was the one. Her skin tingled and her lips pulsated as they shouted to each other over the beats. Dates followed. Conversation flowed about politics, religion, sex, the future, and the second Mike put his tongue on Annabelle's clitoris, she was certain that they would be together forever.

Shortly after graduation they became involved in a ritualistic ceremony which involved swearing absolute fidelity to one another and licking icing off each other's face. Later that night wearing only a white veil, Annabelle screamed, "Sweet Jesus! Fuck me.....harder....fuck.....me!" as her toes pointed towards the ceiling.

Mike Stone was a hard worker, an achiever, and Annabelle knew her future was secure. His advertising job in the big city allowed them to rent a beautiful condo in suburbs, drive new cars, and play with the latest electronic devices. They ate out every night and spent their evenings visiting with friends or leisurely making love.

Annabelle became a beautiful woman. Contacts, skin creams, and hours at the gym had transformed her body. She let her honey blond hair grow out, so that it now cascaded halfway down her back. In Mike's eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. They talked of starting a family. They were deeply in love. And their wonderful idyllic life disappeared in an instant.

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The true measure of a person's character is the way they handle adversity, and Mike searched frantically to find another job. Nobody was hiring, as consumers held on tightly to every dollar in the dying economy. He applied everywhere, but the advertising job market was dead. Finally, as their money ran out, he took a part time job in a warehouse driving a forklift for $10.50 an hour. He didn't care, money was money and he and Annabelle needed to survive. There would be no welfare or food stamps for Mike Stone and his bride.

Annabelle was supportive at first, but as the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, she became depressed and bitter. She took a part time job as a cashier at a local department store to help, but hated it. Dealing with the public all day tried her patience, and in the evenings she was short with Mike. They started to argue about small things. She remembered her Great Grandmother talk about how they "lived on love" during the depression. Annabelle was not, as many of her generation, mentally or emotionally prepared to live with less.

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The trailer reeked of bug spray and bleach. Build in the 1960's, its seals broken, its faucets dripping; the trailer was home to not only Mike and Annabelle, but a parade of cockroaches. Splotches of blood lined the walls and ceiling from smashed flies and mosquitoes, making the trailer seem like a giant Rorschach test. Annabelle's hands were constantly wrinkled and red from a chlorine rash, the result of wiping down the kitchen and bathroom and walls every day.

Mike continued to search for something better and listened endlessly and patiently to his wife's complaints. "She's absolutely right," he thought, "I did promise her a good life. I've let her down."

At night he held her close in the stale air of the ramshackle trailer, the vibrations from the Interstate shaking the ill fitting windows. "I'm sorry." he told her a thousand times and then told her again.

"Somehow, someway, we'll make it out of here, I promise," he whispered in the dark.

They stripped themselves of almost all modern conveniences in order to try to make ends meet. The television had rabbit ears. Communication was a land line with an answering machine. There was no computer, no cable, no internet, no cell phones, no dishwasher, no washing machine, no dryer, no microwave.

They lived on ramen noodles, generic brands of spaghetti and sauce, and Food Club tomato soup. Mike was determined no matter how poor they were to keep his Mr. Coffee. Caffeine was too important when you had to work multiple jobs to survive.

The only thing that Annabelle insisted on was a night out, one time every week. "I need to escape this hellhole once in a while," she begged, "I need to feel like we still have a life." Mike nodded in understanding looking deep into her eyes. "I need something to look forward to...," she cried in his arms.

So in spite of the financial hardship, every Tuesday they dressed up and hit the town. A restaurant, a dance club, a bowling alley, an art gallery, Mike didn't care as he tried desperately to keep Annabelle's spirits up. But as any observant husband could tell, she was slowly slipping away...

At the beginning of the third year, Mike was working 3 part time jobs totaling almost 80 hours each week. His work ethic and commitment to Annabelle were unwavering. He had almost saved enough to escape the trailer park and move into a decent apartment. It was going to be his anniversary surprise to his wife.

Work and sleep. Work and sleep. Work and sleep. But their sex life suffered greatly. Where once there had been affection and passion, the few hours they spent in bed together, Annabelle would silently listen to Mike snore in the darkness. Some days they would barely speak to each other unless to say a strained "I love you" as they passed.

"We need to go out. I NEED to go out. We haven't been out in four Tuesdays, Mike. Please, please, please don't be late. I'm going to lose it if we don't get out, baby," she sobbed as he got dressed for work.

"I know, honey, I know. I'll be home by 7:00pm. Be ready to go," as he gently kissed her cheek and she was alone again in the trailer with the red polka dot walls and ceiling.

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"Mike, I've got three extra trucks coming in tonight. There are about 6 extra hours of work, do you want them?" the warehouse foreman asked.

"Can I use the office phone to call Annabelle? She's expecting me home by 7:00pm..."

"Sure, no problem."

Mike phoned the trailer, but there was no answer so he left a message on the recorder explaining his dilemma. Annabelle was in the shower getting ready for their night on the town. As she soaped her body and lathered her hair, she daydreamed of Thai food and dancing.

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The trailer was dark as Mike arrived home at 11:43pm in his beat up 1984 Chevy pickup. Flicking on the light, the first thing he noticed was not the roaches scattering on the kitchen counter, that was normal, but the white 8"x 11" sheet of paper lying on the table. Its words were clear, "I told you I needed to go out! I told you not to be late! It's 9 o'clock. Fuck you and fuck this life!"

Mike stared at the paper for minutes, his mind and body numb from the 14 hour shift. Annabelle had broken, and now all that was left to do was survey the damage.

The red light from the answering machine was blinking. She had not gotten his message. He hit the button to play back his words, hoping he had explained the situation properly.

Beep. "Honey, they want me to work an extra 6 hours tonight and we could really use the overtime. Would you mind if we went out tomorrow night instead? Call me right back! Love you!" (Click)

"This message was recorded at 5:12 pm."

A second message came on as Mike stared at the machine.

Beep. "Hi! Mike?" Annabelle slurred, "I'm at Club Euphoria dancing. Guys are actually buying me drinks right and left. (Giggle) I'm having a ball, actually, I think I'll be having two balls a little later, and possibly four. (Giggle) Don't wait up for me honey, not that you normally could anyway...I hope the extra fifty bucks was worth it.......Here, talk to him..."

A deep baritone voice spoke next, "Don't worry, Mikey, I'm gonna take real good care of your wife tonight." (Click)

"This message was recorded at 10:18 pm."

Mike slumped back in his chair as the tears trickled down his face.

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The brakes from a taxicab squealed in the night as it stopped in front of the trailer at 3:46am. Fifteen minutes later, Annabelle had managed to open the door and stumble inside. Her platform wedge caught the edge of the sofa and she fell to the floor unconscious.

Mike sat silently in his recliner looking down upon his wife. Annabelle had worn her UV glow neon pink tube dress. During the fall, the stretchy Lycra material had hitched up her hip, exposing her swollen pussy and her bright red ass. Cum oozed from both holes. Her beautiful honey blond hair was caked and matted. Her neck had teeth impressions. Lipstick was smeared across her face. Patches of brown marked her lower back and legs. Annabelle reeked badly, not just of sex and alcohol and pot, but of shit.

Mike stared down at his wife and openly wept. She had broken her promise to him, yes, but who could blame her? How could he have failed to realize how much she needed his attention? What kind of pathetic life had he given her? His guilt overwhelmed him.

"Yes," Mike thought to himself, "She has broken her promise to me, but I also broke my promises to her. I promised to take care of her, and I promised to get her out of this hellhole, and I've failed her. I've failed her!"

Taking the deepest breath of his life he steeled his resolve, "But, my love," he spoke out loud, breaking the silence of the trailer, "I will fail you no more."

He walked to the bathroom and picked out the oldest towel, before returning to the living room to scoop up Annabelle. Taking her in his arms, as he had done some 4 ½ years earlier on their honeymoon, he carried her outside, down to the edge of the trailer park. He gently laid her passed out body on top of the piles of rotting garbage in the dark green dumpster.

The air was chilly so he returned to the trailer to grab the comforter from their bed and covered her body as dew started forming in the early pre-dawn hour. "Sleep well, my love, sleep well." he whispered in her ear, and with a sense of relief, he headed back to trailer.

The alarm clock was beeping and the coffee was brewing, and after a 10 minute shower, he got dressed to head out for his last day on the forklift. He was content, he was at peace, he had finally kept his promise to his wife. He had set her free.

Air brakes roared on the green and yellow Waste Management truck as it rounded the turn into the trailer park. Mike shifted his truck into drive and drove off toward the rest of his life.

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FaceForRadioFaceForRadio2 months ago

Five for its originality and the fact the ending made me tear up a little. You can make up your own mind whether or not she survived the dumpster, and even though I usually prefer stories with a more definite ending, it worked this time. The MC had compassion for her up to the end when he went back and got her favorite bedspread. If she had been willing to work half as hard they could have weathered the storm. The sneaky cheaters are bad enough, but the ones like Annabel who go out of their way to rub the poor guy’s nose in it deserve getting hauled off by the karma dump truck!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 2 years ago

The trash hauler decided to run a compactor cycle on his load just after leaving Mike's trailer park. No trace of the slut was ever found, but to be fair no one was looking in the commercial side of the landfill. After the police heard the voicemail, the cheating cunt was assumed to have run off with her lover. When asked how he felt, Mike would always reply that he found her betrayal to be "crushing."

InfosaugerInfosaugerover 2 years ago

I hope she wakes up when the garbage Truck arrives. Realizing where she is and remembering what she did the night before she feels ashamed. Then comes back to the trailer missing all her husband things.

MarkT63MarkT63about 3 years ago

Busting your ass 80 hours a week for a cheating, selfish slut?? Not in my lifetime!!!

Decal_lastDecal_lastabout 3 years ago

More than a little harsh. The guy got down-sized, he is not the cream of the crop either. He should get up there and let someone else drive!

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