Dangerous Lifestyle

By Likegoodwine© March 2012

Here's another short story for you. There is no sex in this one. This story is inspired by a similar story written by zeke81 'In for a pound, in for a pussy'. I had a flash when starting to read his story and I offer you this flash story.

Enjoy! Thanks to Scalia for his patient editing.

Your votes and constructive comments are appreciated, as they will help me grow.

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My life has been shit the past year. Three of my best friends have died of a heart attack. As a result, my wife Nancy is nagging at me to change my lifestyle, lose some weight and avoid a similar fate.

The first to die was Harold. Right before Christmas, a week after our traditional Christmas party his wife found him dead in bed. Besides his wife, Marcie, he left two teenage kids.

It was coming back from the funeral, while Nancy was still shedding tears over the loss of our good friend, when she asked me to change my lifestyle and my diet. She said, and I quote her verbatim: "Mark, you are like Harold. You will soon turn 50. If you don't pay attention to your weight it might be your funeral that I will have to attend next."

Nancy had a valid point. I am a bit overweight. At 6' tall, I weighed close to 200 lbs. I could probably stand to lose 20 to 30 lbs. But I had two major problems: first I loved to eat and Nancy was an excellent cook. Second I am a couch potato when I am at home. While I knew eating less and more exercise instead of watching TV would help my health for sure. But thinking about Harold and his own lifestyle, I knew that I wasn't as much at risk as he had been.

In an attempt to appease her, I said: "Don't worry Nancy! You're right! I should eat healthier and exercise more. But then Harold was doing many things really bad for his health that I will never do."

"Well, take it as a lesson and please make an effort. I don't know what I would do if I were to lose you," she said.

My new resolve lasted all of two weeks. As a sales manager for a pharmaceutical company, I have to travel at least five days out of every 20 to meet my team of salesmen scattered all over the surrounding states. And like it or not, unless you spend hours at the hotel bar, the only leisure time is spent in the hotel room watching TV.

In June, it was our friend Brad that had a heart attack, shortly after our Father's Day BBQ. His wife, Sheila, was a colleague of Nancy. We had become fast friends almost 15 years before. Sheila took it very hard. Their kids, like ours, were out of the nest and living on the West Coast. I felt really sorry for her to end up all alone once the kids went back to their life after the funeral.

Nancy pounced on this new drama and came at me with a vengeance.

Ever had a mere dry barely buttered toast for breakfast, or a small salad with a fruit for lunch or a variation of the salad and fruit also for supper?

Well that was my fare for the next month. Just to survive, I had to gulf down a burger or two on my way home every day after work. And that does not include my stop for a bacon and egg muffin in the morning or the hot dogs from the street vendor outside my office at lunch.

How can people live with so many lies and falsehood told to their wife or husband is beyond me. I was dying inside, but at least my stomach wasn't grumbling. One night I came home with some pick-up junk food and put it on the table. I had enough.

"Honey! I've had enough of that diet thing. You eat what you want, but tonight I will be eating this juicy burger and these greasy fries."

"But Mark, remember what happened to Brad, and Harold..." she started to say.

"Stop it right there, Nancy! Brad, Harold and me are not at all alike. They did things that I wouldn't dare be caught doing. They had an unhealthy lifestyle that is way beyond my own failing," I said.

"But..."

"No but for me. I've had enough of these little salads your prepare for my lunch or for supper."

I though she would let it slip but unfortunately, it didn't last very long as our friend Steve, a neighbor down the street, was found dead in his tool shed a stormy October afternoon. He was simply sitting in a lounging chair, having the good taste to die of a heart failure while sipping a beer after some yard work.

Immediately after Steve's death, Nancy took it on herself to force me into a healthier lifestyle. This included those infamous salads and a lot of evening walks around the neighborhood. This time she was watching me like an eagle. I swear I caught her outside my office spying on me to see if I would buy some hot dogs from the street stand. How dumb! That stand closes in October and doesn't reopen till late April. I had pizza delivered from a nearby restaurant. I didn't even have to leave my office.

One evening, while sipping some good homebrewed beer in the basement, Nancy caught me munching on some Ritz crackers.

All in tears, sobbing, she looked defeated. She turned around and went back upstairs. I was not far behind. I left the crackers box downstairs but I grabbed my beer and another one for Nancy. Time for the final showdown I guess.

She was sitting on the couch, her face in her hands, crying.

I sat beside her, putting one beer in front of her. She looked up toward me.

"Have a beer Honey. It will help," I said.

Still sniveling she grabbed the beer and took a good swig.

She looked up at me.

"Why Mark? Why don't you pay attention to your health? I try my hardest to make sure you don't end up like Harold, Brad or Steve. And there you are pilfering in a box of crackers. Why? Do you want to die from a heart failure too?"

I took a swig from my bottle and Nancy did the same.

"You don't have to worry about me Honey! I am not in any danger to die like our friends. They had a lifestyle very different from mine. I am as healthy as a horse the doctor says," I said.

"But Mark, what make you so different from them. Like you they were overweight, not into sports, unless it was on TV... And the next thing you know, PAF! They are dead. What's the difference?" Nancy asked.

"Well," I started, unsure how to bring it in the open.

I took a final swig from my beer and Nancy did too. Seeing my empty bottle, she pushed her beer toward me but I pushed it back.

"Well," I resumed. "There is one thing each of them did that I never had and never will. And that thing explains why they died of a heart failure."

Nancy took a sip from her beer and look at me with askance.

I moved closer to her, my mouth an inch from her ear.

"They shoved their cocks in your ass, you bitch!"

Nancy recoiled away from me with the realization that I already knew about her cheating. And as expected, her hand went to her heart. She gave me a bewildered and scared look as the first sign of a hearth attack hit her.

I got up, grabbed both bottles of beer from the coffee table and went toward the kitchen to wash up all evidence. I then went outside to do some yard work. I would 'discover' Nancy around suppertime, in three hours.