tagHumor & SatireEmptied Purse

Emptied Purse


I was bleary-eyed after work, half six, New Year's morning. Marlene had been out late with the girls from the Army camp, where she worked part-time. Most of the girls were married to soldiers posted to Afghanistan. I was working the night shift New Year's Eve, but I didn't mind, at least I had Christmas Day off, when our twins were home.

I was low on petrol, having left my wallet in the bedroom. Marlene had thrown her coat and handbag across the breakfast counter when she rolled in during the early hours. The bag was gaped open, revealing her purse. Now, I never open her purse, I mean never, on pain of death, ever. We have joint accounts, of course, sharing household and living expenses, we had for twenty years, but cash? Well, cash is more ... personal.

The reason the tank was empty though was her bloody fault. Yup, the post-Christmas sales. She'd done them all. Oh, she particularly treasured those leather boots, the ones she nervously said were a "bargain". Yeah, I knew exactly how much we saved on them, but not the actual cost. She definitely owed me big time.

Fifty quid would fill the car. Twenty would furnish a necessary top up. I lifted the fat purse from the bag. I thought it was possibly full of loose change that I could use for car-parking meters. What do girls keep in their bloody purses, anyway?

I was on virgin territory here.

Yup, change aplenty inside, plus a key ring with two keys, a Yale and a Chubb. What? They looked like the standard keys for Squaddie accommodation adjacent to the Army camp. I'd seen the type before; prior to my current job, I did a bit of building maintenance in those flats. Now, tell me, why would she have a set?

In the next purse compartment was a flash slim pink mobile phone.

Mmm. We both had plain cheap mobiles, without internet or camera, used basically to contact the kids. I opened it up. The phone directory of that mobile was full of entries I never recognised but then I didn't know all of Marlene's acquaintances, did I? I opened the image library next and whistled. Lots of pictures of a fit young man, many of them showing him stripped to the waist, all rippling muscles. Muscles on bloody muscles. The latest photo looked like a Skype screenshot, the tanned NCO in desert tunic, topped by Father Christmas hat, big happy proud-of-myself grin on his face.

Damn! He'd stolen my girl, Marlene, my wife of twenty years, mother of my twins, the woman I worshipped. I dropped the purse and phone on the counter. Loose change spilled out, including a tightly-wrapped plastic bag.

Intrigued, I unravelled and opened it. A pregnancy test, which read positive.

Marlene was having a baby! At forty-one, it was risky, but worth it, I choked, if you were deeply in love with the father. So, it looked like she had been having unprotected sex with a soldier for long enough to share the keys key to his flat and betray her infidelity on a pregnancy test.

I had my vasectomy immediately after the twins were born, we had agreed then, that enough was enough. So it looked like I'd shared unprotected sex with the self same Squaddie. I only just made it to the cloakroom as I lost my overnight sandwiches.

Washing my face, it was impossible to tell what was tap water or tears. My committed love for Marlene turned to involuntary hate. When Lance Corporal Ripped Torso returned from his six-month tour, I knew she'd move him into my house, playing happy families, and kick me out in the cold. The twins were soppy about babies, all girls are, so they'd be in her camp.

Bitter, was I? You betcha! I'd given her the best years of my life and I hadn't a clue what a mug I was.

Following our divorce, the results were obvious. She'd possess the family home all the while the twins were in further education. They only started three months ago and were bright enough to go all the way. I'd have to find somewhere else to live but still have to pay half of the household expenses so Marlene, her lover, and new baby had a roof over their cheating heads.

I grabbed a black sack and those new boots from under the stairs, stuffed them in the bag. An evil grin played on my vomit-tainted lips as I added every right female shoe to the bag, leaving the lefts as they were, as reminders of her infidelity. In the wood shed I chopped every boot and shoe in half. I felt empowered. Action, the universal salve of the disappointed man.

I used my tin snips to cut through the satellite and aerial leads, plus the cable network feed, which we used for broadband. Marlene loved her soaps. I knew that all this afternoon and evening she'd be glued to the New Year holiday omnibus editions. Think again, bitch!

In the kitchen I rechecked that purse. I tore up a photo of my handsome rival and flushed it down the toilet. I found a twenty pound note, so, with the loose change, I could at least half-fill the car.

I pulled out our laptop to check it. Excellent. No internet. Good. Her blasted cat was winding itself around my legs, probably wanting feeding, neglected while Marlene was sleeping off her New Year

Celebrations without my company to spoil her fun. I stuffed the smelly thing in its carry basket that we use to take it to the vets. Then I grabbed her purse and our laptop and left the house.

On the edge of town there is a beauty spot. Usually, it is full of dog walkers and picnickers in the summer. Now, early morning, still dark and freezing mid-winter, it was deserted.

I recalled that Marlene had called me at work on the stroke of midnight, from a noisy night club, drunkenly wishing me happy new year, probably using lover boy's pink phone. I threw that phone as far as I could throw. I chucked her emptied purse and house keys in the opposite direction. I let the cat out of the basket.

It looked at me with baleful eyes as I drove off. No guilt on my part, well almost none.

I parked in the Mall and connected the laptop to the Cloud. I booked a hotel room for the rest of the week. Marlene had all her passwords in a file. I closed her investments, ignoring warnings about early penalties and transferred everything into an account I use for online gambling. Marlene's not the only one with secret vices.

I uploaded photos on her Facebook page of her in her bikini from years ago before she lost all that weight from having the twins; I cursed that Marlene had never let me film us making love. Still, she'd be mortified with those bikini pics anyway.

I cancelled the gas and electric, being the Bank Holiday, the services wouldn't actually be cut until tomorrow.

I needed to go back to what used to be my house, to collect my wallet from the bedroom and to pack my clothes. The kitchen light was on at home, Marlene was drinking tea, looking the worse for wear.

"Hi, Hon," she said, a bright smile on her cheating face, "can you have look at the telly? I can only get white noise. Oh, an' give us a lift to the hospital before you go to bed will you, Sweetie? I was drinking shots all night and guess I'm still illegal to drive," she giggled, "naughty me, didn't get home until four. We need to go collect my friend Shirley, they kept her in overnight after she hyperventilated at the club, the baby's not due for another week. An' she'll need her purse, I'm sure I left it here ... Sweetheart, you alright?"

No, I fucking well wasn't.

The end.

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bySpencerfiction© 26 comments/ 18739 views/ 8 favorites
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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous09/29/18

Fuuucckkk itttt

Haha shit happens

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by Overcritical02/06/18

Cute Story

But it really points out the message that you should never make assumptions about "obvious" evidence and should ask questions about what you don't know for sure.

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by timriv02/05/18


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