Deja' Poo

Enough famous people had been found that had choked on their own vomit that there would be no doubt what had happened. The stench and sight of vomit combined with the mouthful of coleslaw would be interpreted as vomit in the dim light. Add to that, a cold, stiff body that wasn't breathing and had no pulse....

Yes, whoever found me would call an ambulance, Penny would be forced to tell them of the sleeping pills and the fun would commence. The video clip would ensure maximum damage after that. I just hoped that whoever first entered wouldn't know to check the carotid pulse in my neck.

+++++

WHILE WAITING FOR show time, I was torn between trying to block out the faint sounds of Penny's betrayal and keeping an ear open for visitors. I guess the former won out, as suddenly I was jerked into awareness by a loud roar from my wife's father. I hadn't heard him enter the house.

"Penny! What the hell is going on here?"

That was quickly followed by a squeal from her mother and a scream from Penny. This one sounded quite different to the last ones. I took grim delight in that. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to truly savour it. I needed to act.

I quickly swallowed the four sleeping pills and took a mouthful of the slaw before sliding the bowl under the bed. While doing this I could hear what sounded like a stampede of cows running down the stairs and then several cars screaming off. I felt sure that had I been outside, I'd have smelled burnt rubber.

Finally, in the quiet, I heard, "You fucking slut, where is your husband?"

Surprisingly, it was her mother's voice. I couldn't recall every having heard her curse before.

"He... he's away for the night."

"Well, daughter or not, you can be sure he'll be hearing about this from us. Tell him he's welcome to visit whenever he likes, but you stay away. You're dead to me. To do this... This is not how we raised you. Come on, Clive, let's get out of this bordello."

This last conversation got louder and louder as the three protagonists came downstairs. Presumably, mum and dad charging down the stairs and Penny desperately chasing in a desperate bid to save her oldest, and arguably, most precious relationship.

Before too long, Penny's sobs were the only thing to break the silence until I heard her parent's car leave. Now I was in a quandary. I had perhaps thirty minutes before the sleeping pills took me out. I had to get rid of the slaw before then. I didn't want to really choke on the stuff when I fell asleep. Then, how could I explain the candles when I woke in hospital? That's if anyone ever called an ambulance.

I was pondering my dilemma when I heard Penny's cell phone blare into life in the kitchen. She ignored it the first time, but half a minute later it went off again. I heard her shuffle past my door. I missed the first part of the call but then heard her voice getting louder and louder. Soon, she was right outside the spare room door.

"What video, Tanya?"

Silence.

"Oh god, not Christine. She's Matt's wife. He was one of the... Oh fuck, what have I done? God no."

If I had to guess, the crash that followed was a cell phone smashing against the floor and the scraping sound was someone sliding down a wall when their legs would no longer support them. I knew the wrenching sobs from my wife should have triggered something protective in me but all I experienced was a sense of impatience. Decision time was fast approaching.

Let's see. Family destroyed. Job destroyed; there were so many on that address book that the chances of her bosses not finding out were nil. In fact, Penny's boss would almost certainly have been on the list of recipients. Mutual friends of Dave and Penny? Almost certainly lost to her when the publicity revealed that she'd hospitalised me. Come on, Penny. You only have one choice. Wake hubby up and beg his forgiveness. Well, try to. Just call a bloody ambulance all right!

Waves of fatigue washed over me. I was at the point where I contemplated swallowing the slaw when I finally heard movement. It sounded like someone standing up. The noise of the door opening met my ears; second-hand light from the hallway entered the room. Penny must have either smelt the vomit or seen it on the pillow because she squealed and ran over to the bed.

"Dave, Dave, wake up."

With no response from me she ran to the light switch and I heard it clicking multiple times, but of course, the bulb was unscrewed. Penny swore. She came back and got in my face. I knew the moment she saw the slaw as she gasped loudly.

"No. No. No."

I felt her hot breath, laced with tequila, waft over my cheeks.

She sat on the bed and grabbed my left forearm. I knew it would feel cold to her touch and I stiffened it slightly while clamping my upper arm to my side. She tried, but failed, to find my pulse. Then, just like the movies, she put her cheek to my mouth to feel for breath. I held it, hoping she wouldn't smell the coleslaw, or if she did, put it down to dinner earlier. Still, it was hardly likely she'd smell slaw over the sharp, putrid smell of my vomit.

Something wet splashed my face. I controlled the urge to cringe or wipe. I knew it was Penny's tears; I could hear her gulping sobs. Running around the bed, she felt for the pulse in my other cold, stiff forearm. Nothing.

Her reaction was a little strange. A small moan, morphed into a large groan that ended in projectile vomit. Whether from my stomach contents on the pillow or from the realisation of what she thought she'd done, I would never know. All I knew was she ran from the room to the bathroom.

"Thank fuck for that," I thought as I swallowed the slaw. It wasn't bad. "Now maybe she will call an ambulance."

Groggily I got up, put the two candles on the bookshelf then threw the coleslaw bowl out of the window and quietly shut it. Just another piece of rubbish from the party. I collapsed back onto the bed in roughly the same position.

The pills took over several minutes later while I was in the middle of rehearsing a good line to use when I awoke in the hospital.

+++++

WELL, YOU KNOW what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men, don't you?

My awakening was nothing like I imagined it would be. I was groggy as hell and still in the spare bedroom. It was broad daylight and there was no sign of Penny. I was also shivering uncontrollably. I staggered through the house but it was empty. The cowardly bitch had done a runner.

If you want something done properly, do it yourself. I decided to ring the police non-emergency number, but first I decided to make myself a coffee. Hopefully, it would nip in the bud the headache clawing at the edges of my brain. Maybe taking four sleeping pills was a bit of overkill. It wasn't until I sat at the kitchen table that I noticed the four sheets of paper, inscribed with Penny's flowery script among the party debris. With nothing better to do, I read them.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I feel I owe you an explanation for the things you witnessed tonight. As much as it shames me, I must be blunt and speak about things daughters don't normally speak of to their parents.

Since I was in high school I have had a sexual fantasy of making love to multiple men at the same time. I've read it's a common fantasy, but that doesn't excuse me. I broached it with Dave but he made it clear it would never happen with his blessing. Over the years, the fantasy became all-consuming.

Four months ago, one of the supervisors at work, John Clark, suggested I put in for a promotion. He jokingly said that if I screwed all the other supervisors, I could walk into the job. At Halifax, peer groups are always consulted on promotions. I think he guessed from my reaction that he'd hit a nerve. He took me to lunch and I don't know why but my fantasy came out. I desperately wanted to get promoted so I wouldn't have to travel so much. He mentioned it to the other guys and somehow the idea of them all having sex with me at the same time became acceptable to me. They wanted six sessions but I talked them down to three. Can you believe it? I actually negotiated.

Bitter disgust left a foul taste in my mouth. I took a hefty slug of my coffee and swished it around. Negotiated it down to three? Did she expect to be congratulated for that? One such session was too much. It only took the one to betray me. Us.

They wanted at least one session before they supported me, but I'm not stupid, I shut that idea down. They refused to take my word that my promise was good, though. In the end, we negotiated a deal. All the sessions would be after I was promoted but they would have a single photograph to use as collateral to make sure I didn't renege on the deal. John and I stayed back one night and he took a photo of me in the nude. If I welched, he would send the photo around and I would have to resign from embarrassment. I knew that if he tried to use the photo after three sessions to force me to do more, I could always accuse him of sexual harassment.

The subject never came up though. The five guys did support me and I got the promotion. A week after it was announced, we told everyone we were going out for a celebratory lunch but actually went to a motel. That session was a bit of a disaster. We were interrupted halfway through because of a noise complaint.

A shaft to the gut. That's what her words felt like. Noise complaint? After hearing her the previous night, I could just imagine. I thought about abandoning the letter, but I'd come this far. What else could she possibly say to wound me further?

So, last month we scheduled one here, at Dave's and my home. The guys organised for a girl's night out for their wives and girlfriends after a party here at the house. Dave never travels, so John and I organised to put sleeping pills in Dave's drink and we had a session while he was out of it. I think you can guess the rest. Tonight, was the third and final session. When you caught me, Dave was supposed to be asleep in the guest bedroom.

I know what I did to Dave was very wrong. I justified it to myself as being his fault for not supporting my dream. Also, I told myself he was gaining from the deal. The promotion gave us more money and stopped me having to travel. I thought it was okay for me to explore, as it meant nothing to me other than a sexual good time, living out my fantasy. I still gave Dave all the love and affection he could wish for and he couldn't say that he wasn't happy with me.

I realise now that they were all stupid justifications and in my lust I'd overlooked the risk to Dave, who has now paid the ultimate price for my selfishness.

What you saw last night was the last time I was going to cheat on my husband. I don't know if I can live with the knowledge that I killed a man who once probably saved my life. Please believe that I regret all my disgusting actions and I apologise for the shame I have brought on my family.

I put the letter down, thinking it sounded an awful lot like a farewell. She really had done a runner. I picked up the next sheet of paper. Another letter.

To the management and employees of the Halifax Industries,

I accept full responsibility for my actions and apologise for bringing the company into disrepute.

Hmm, short and sweet. I put it down, on top of the letter to her parents, and then picked up the next one.

To the wives and girlfriends of John and the other guys,

Although only partially my fault, I accept responsibility for causing the inevitable damage to your relationships that will come from my sluttish actions. I apologise sincerely.

There was one more sheet of paper. Who else was she going to apologise or explain herself to? It couldn't be me. She thought me dead according to the letter to her parents.

I was wrong.

To my darling Dave,

My knight in shining armour. You are the man I have loved since the moment you came to my rescue all those years ago and who deserved so much more than a cheating slut like me. I intend throwing myself at your feet and begging your forgiveness in about an hour's time. I hope you forgive me so we can be together forever.

Penny

My tears fell on the already crinkled third sheet as I read the passion and despair in the letter. It was then I knew what Penny intended.

I wondered what method she would choose. She wasn't in any of the downstairs rooms. On legs that still felt a bit wonky I took the stairs two at a time. She wasn't in our bedroom. Nor the ensuite. Not in the other bedroom either.

With dread certainty, I made my way down the stairs and outside. I opened the door to the detached garage. The inside was a little hazy and reeked of aldehydes and other petrol engine exhaust fumes.

In the gloom I saw Penny's car. Braving a gassing, I walked toward it, dreading what I was inevitably going to find. I saw the length of hose from the exhaust pipe to the passenger side back window, which was cracked open. The engine wasn't running and, judging by the fumes, hadn't been for an hour or so. I opened the driver's door to find my sweet wife lying with her eyes closed on the reclined seat. As my eyes adjusted to the poor light I could see she had a slightly pink hue to her face.

I fumbled for her carotid pulse. Nothing. Her skin was cold to the touch and I knew that unlike me, she hadn't had to fake it. The dashboard lights were on and a quick glance showed the fuel level meter wrapped around the E.

It finally hit me now. Penny was dead. My conscience quailed. Had I killed her?

No. She was dead from her own hand after a series of appalling choices. She'd chosen to act out her basal desires and become a cum dump for her workmates. Sure, I'd facilitated it, but it was her choices that directly led to her losing her parent's respect, probably all of her friends, trashing five other marriages, and putting a bullet through the brain of her career.

The fact she'd destroyed our marriage at the same time and I might never trust another human being for as long as I lived, in my mind, absolved me of blame. Almost. Penny's final decision to end it all, doing the ultimate runner rather than live with all the consequences of her actions could be considered cowardly.

I staggered backward away from the car and almost stumbled over something that had been hidden in the gloom as I entered. I looked down and saw my twenty-five-litre jerry can, with the spout still attached. Almost reflexively I picked it up. Empty. It was full last weekend.

It looked like Penny had finally learnt to check her bloody fuel gauge.

EPILOGUE

LEISURELY AWAITING THE POLICE was a plan now out the window so I called 000. The ambulance beat the police by minutes and when it was obvious Penny was very, very dead, left her where she was for police inspection. Two policemen took my statement where I told them the story and showed them the notes.

A blood test of me, Penny's letter, and several witnesses ensured that John and the others were arrested for their involvement in drugging me. Such a nice phrase isn't it, 'accessory before the fact'? John ended up with three years as a ringleader, the other four got slaps on the wrist when it couldn't be proven they knew of the drugging.

Three of them ended up divorced. One other had to grovel so long and hard his knees were permanently scarred. The last was forced to witness his wife going out, picking up random guys and bringing them home to screw. She enjoyed that so much that she discretely kept going after she said she'd inflicted enough pain. Her husband caught her three years later and left her.

Halifax Industries needed to recruit for six new employees.

Who would have thought that one small woman could cause so much damage?

In time my guilt for causing Penny's suffering lessened and my outrage at what she did to me grew. When the latter got bigger than the former, I knew it was time to move on. I've met a lovely divorcee called Mary. I love her to bits, and she says she'd never do the dirty on me but..., I just don't know.

THE END

For a long time, I balked at writing a drugging story. Radk's 'Water', Papatoad's 'Sleeping Lamborghini', Cpete's 'Mary and Sarah' and Doctorwyldcard's 'Standoff' are definitive IMHFO and left little room for original movement. But then I said, WTF, just do it. I would be honoured if it allows me to join the pantheon of 'druggies' above.

The author known as Vandemonium1

NOW LIGHTEN UP.

The following jokes is on kind loan from member Tw0Cr0ws. Read it quickly, I promised to have it back by midnight.

Have you ever had rodeo sex with your wife or girlfriend? You get on her, doggy style position, then you whisper in her ear:

"Your sister is a better fuck."

Then you try to stay on for the next eight seconds.