Life's a Bitch and then You Die

Bill left the meeting even more depressed than when he entered.

+++++++

The following Monday, Bill came home to a quiet house. He looked around downstairs and finding no one, went up the stairs to his bedroom to change. As he approached the door to his room, he heard the unmistakable sound of his wife having sex. Her squeals of delight were loud and easily recognizable. The deep throated grunts could only be coming from Tyrone. He had just put his hand on the knob ready to burst in on the adulterers when a voice came from behind, "What you doing here, white boy?"

Spinning around, Bill was confronted by a 6'4" wall of black muscle. "This is my house. What the fuck are you doing in it?" demanded Bill.

The stranger chuckled to himself, "So, you're the cuckie! Tyrone said you were around someplace. My name's Jamile," he said as he held out is hand.

Bill looked at Jamile and his hand as if they were from a different planet. "Why the fuck would I want to shake your hand, dipshit," Bill shouted, "I want you and dickhead to leave right now."

Once again, things went dark for Bill.

He came to and the house was dark and quiet. His head hurt like hell and he thought he had several loose teeth. After cleaning himself up he went downstairs to get a beer. As he passed the den, he saw the TV was on and Susan was watching with the sound turned way down.

Susan looked up as she heard Bill moving about. "Bill," she said patting the couch next to her, "come sit with me for a bit."

Bill moved a bit more into the den but did not sit down where Susan indicated.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't have had both Ty and his friend over to our house so close to when you get home. Ty came over about 9, just after you left for work, and worked me over until his friend Jamile got here around noon. I must have lost track of time. I'm sorry. I won't do that again." Susan said.

Bill looked hard at her, "So, you are saying you won't fuck Tyrone or Jamile again?"

"No, silly, I am just saying I will plan better so that you do not step in on us again," she smirked.

"Then tell me dear wife, why the fuck should I stay in this hell," Bill snarled.

"Because, DEAR HUSBAND, if you don't, you will be paying me everything you make and I will still be fucking Ty and his friends," Susan replied with a wisp of a smile on her lips.

Around and around and around they went; almost all night long. Susan kept presenting her world view and offering to go to counseling to help Bill see the larger picture and Bill saying that he did not want her fucking anyone but him.

Finally, in order to get any sleep, Bill agreed to go see the counselor Susan wanted to use.

+++++++

As Bill and Susan walked through the door into the counselor's office, he spotted several awards from organizations such as the Women Against Misogyny and the Coalition of Undocumented New-age Transcendentalists (CUNTs) placed prominently on the wall. Behind the desk sat a matronly grey haired woman. She reminded him of a bulldog sitting up to bark at the world.

"Dr. Hooper will be ready to see you in a few minutes," she said.

Bill did not have a good feeling about this. Everything was so staged, so to script. Unfortunately for him, he did not know either the script or what his part in it was.

After about twenty minutes, a door opened and a middle-aged female with greying hair, sagging boobs and a spreading ass came out. She did have the tight skin of a facelift survivor but it looked more fake than her smile. "Hello," the harpy said, "I'm Doctor Elaine Hooper. Please come into my office."

She gave no apology for making them wait and from Susan's total lack of irritation, he suspected that the delay was part of a plan and that Susan was in on it.

After asking both Bill and Susan to state what they expected from the sessions, Dr. Hooper began to spout many of the same things Susan had been saying for the last several weeks.

"So you see, Bill, it is not that Susan wants to cheat on you, it is just that you have failed and are failing to supply her with one of the most critical the necessities of life: good sex.

"In your own words you agree, you work long hours and are never around when Susan needs sex. You should be happy that she has discovered a way to have her needs met and still include you in her life. That is the sign of a very loving relationship; she is willing to compromise her normal, natural biologic needs to meet your selfish wants."

Bill had stopped both listening and participating. His head pounded and he felt like the world was a mass of futility and despair. He sat there until the session was over and zombie-like followed Susan out to the car.

Finally, after three more sessions listening to Dr. Hooper laying more and more of the blame onto him, Bill called a halt. He told Susan that he did not accept what was happening in the sessions and that if Susan wanted to save the marriage, they would go to someone HE selected. With more than a little smirk, Susan agreed. She knew that ALL the therapists went through the same schools, took the same classes and would all see things the same way, the right way, HER way.

+++++++++

One night, in total abject defeat, Bill stopped into a bar for a quiet drink. He just could not go home where he knew Tyrone was with Susan. He had already downed two beers and was thinking about ordering a third when he heard the outside door open and close.

A stranger walked up to the bar and pulled out one of the stools down the line. Quickly planting his ass on the stool, he ordered a 4 to 1 martini with Blue Sapphire Gin. Rubbing his hands together, the guy looked around the room. His eyes alighting upon Bill sitting glumly down the bar he said, "Hey, buddy, can you pass the nuts down here?"

BILL disinterestedly pushed the bowl of salted peanuts over towards the stranger. "Here you go," he said.

The stranger looked at Bill and asked, "Why so glum, Chum?"

Bill looked up at him and for a moment thought about telling him to piss off, then decided to just not say anything. The bartender placed the stranger's drink in front of him and retreated with a few bills the guy laid on the bar top.

"Look man, it's none of my business, but you look like someone either just killed your dog or you just found out your wife is cheating on you," the stranger said. Holding out his hand he said, "Name's Greg."

Bill took his hand and said, "Bill. Sorry, not good company just now. As it turns out your second guess was right."

"Sorry to hear that Bill," Greg said, "If you want to tell me about it, can't promise a solution but can promise to listen."

So Bill relayed what his life had become in the recent past. Greg kept their glasses full and listened intently to Bill's story.

Finally, Bill was up to the present. Greg looked at him and said, "Well, Bill, sounds like you are truly fucked and then some. So what do you want to do about it?"

Bill looked over at Greg through his now alcohol soaked eyes and said, "What can I do. The system is stacked against me; against any husband. They say it's a man's world, but in reality we gave it away to the bitches."

Greg got a little quirk in his lips as he pulled a business card out of his wallet. "Here you go," he said, "I was sort of in your place two years ago and this guy showed me the way out." Greg placed the card in front of Bill and said, "He's good. What do you have to lose?"

With that Greg got up and walked out the door. Bill stared at the card for the longest time before he picked it up, slid it into his shirt pocket and decided it was time to go home... well at least to his house.

+++++++

When he got home, Bill collapsed on the couch in the den and drifted off into an alcohol induced coma. Susan did not even check to see if he was OK and simply went to bed.

In the morning, Bill's head was pounding. His mouth tasted like the entire French Foreign Legion had marched though it wearing sweat socks. His BRAIN hurt.

As he stumbled into the downstairs lavatory, he was determined that the hell he was living in would end; one way or another.

Bill told Susan that he wanted to try a counselor named Zorran Strangski. She looked at him like a bug under a microscope. "Zorran Strangski," she said, "What kind of a name is that?"

Bill stood his ground until finally Susan said she would check him out and get back to Bill.

The next day, Susan called Dr. Hooper asking about this Zorran guy her husband wanted to go to. As soon as she said Zorran's name, her therapist was spouting off against the idea. "He's a quack," she said, "Strangski doesn't follow the rules. He makes things up as he goes along."

Susan thanked Dr. Hooper and said she would get back to her. She was a bit taken aback. Where did Bill find this person? Why would he be willing to go to see him when he was completely against Dr. Hooper? The more she thought on it, the more she was unsure of her next move. She almost had it all; a husband who did what he was told; who made a very good living; who supplied her with everything she wanted. She had lovers who supplied all the sex she needed; and finally, and most importantly, she had control, total control! She knew if she could just make this final improvement to Bill, then she would have everything. Hmmm, she thought, maybe if I give him a nice blow job tonight, I can get him back with the program.

+++++++

Even with the blow job and one mercy fuck, Susan could not dissuade Bill from wanting to go see this Strangski character. So, three weeks later, Susan and Bill entered the office of the person Susan's therapist and friends had most stridently recommended to stay away from. None of the local marriage counselors Susan had checked with, female OR male, liked how Zorran operated; especially as he went against everything they stood for. But mostly because he was not a "Professional"; he did not have a PhD, a Master's or *gasp* even a Bachelor's in any of the "social sciences." He did hold several PhDs from rather well know universities in things such as Chaos Theory, Mathematics and Physics. And he DID pass the state licensing exam to be a marriage counselor. But he was not listed in any of the directories... his clients found him by word of mouth, like Greg with Bill, or by the small ad he ran in the local paper: "Wife Cheating on you? Life shitting on you? Counselors trying to pass the blame around so it's YOUR fault? Call Zorran Strangski at 555-555-5555."

Zorran entered the room from a side door and waved Bill and Susan into chairs sitting at a bit of an angle to each other in front of his desk. He lowered himself into his chair and asked if either of them would like coffee? Both Bill and Susan shook their heads no, so Zorran reached over to a very old style percolator and poured some into an ancient looking handle-less mug. Taking it into his hand, he sat back into his chair and addressed Bill and Susan. "As a reminder to both of you, I am not a traditional marriage counselor. I am not here to fix your marriage or your relationship. I am a life strategist. My specialty is Chaos Theory and from what I have seen, marriage is pretty chaotic at its best. What I will be doing is developing a profile on each of you, determining how you are interacting with each other and then give my opinion on what each of you should do going into the future. It may well be that reconciliation is what you both need, but it usually isn't. Is that understood? Great. You are here at Bill's request and I will be acting as his friend. Just remember, a friend does for you what, in his mind, you need, which is not always the same as what you want. Now... I understand there are children?"

Both Bill and Susan shook their heads up and down.

"OK," said Zorran, "How many and how old?"

Susan said, "We have two sons. Frank, who is 17 and Mike, who is 15."

Zorran looked at her and said, "Then where are they?"

Susan tried to explain that they were just children and the problems in the marriage did not include them.

"No," said Zorran, "They are adults in all but legal title. They are affected by, as well as are affecting, the family dynamic. I will need to see them as well. Ok then, please see my scheduler on your way out."

+++++++

Bill, Susan, Frank and Mike were all assembled in Zorran's office two weeks after the last of the interviews. Bill was more than a bit nervous. Susan was looking around, smirking about how this was going just as she planned. Even though her friends warned her about Zorran, she felt sure she had convinced him of the correctness of her thinking. This should be the end to Bill's futile attempt to gain control in the marriage. Maybe if he groveled enough she would give him a mercy blowjob or better yet, let him lick her out after Tyrone had blown his cum in her pussy.

Frank and Mike sat in their chairs playing with their Smart Phones, totally bored by the proceedings.

"Tonight is curry night. Can we stop at The Happy Goat on the way home?" asked Mike. He knew the curry would cause his old man's ulcer to flare up all night long, the wuss. Frank snickered at the inside dig at ATM.

Zorran came into the room, scanned the occupants and sat down behind his desk. He opened a folder, read it for a few moments, and then looked up into the expectant faces.

"OK," he said, "After all the interviews and my research into your lives..." he stopped when he saw the shocked look on everyone's face. "What? You thought I would take your words at face value, as fact? Not likely."

"I have my own network of investigators. Mostly parolees, but they know how to find things out. SOOOOOO, let us begin," Zorran said as he flipped open the top folder.

Susan was a bit put out that someone had been digging around in her business. Worse yet, it sounded like these someones might be criminals!

Zorran looked hard at Susan, "Susan, you are a self-centered, immature bitch. Every facet of your life is driven by what is best for you. You do nothing to support Bill, not even emotional support. You spend money without thought of consequences and expect Bill to make more. Your views on marital fidelity are a bunch of shit. Your thoughts on women being better than men and more evolved so therefore are allowed to have more than one lover at a time, especially within the concept of a marriage, leaves my head pounding." Zorran pinched the ridge of his nose with the fingers of this left hand, "Susan, you are nothing more than a slatternly whore who has deluded herself and taken on airs above her station."

Zorran turned to Frank and Mike and said, "You are narcissistic self-indulgent pieces of crap. You think the world revolves around you and your wishes. You have NO respect for your father or what he has sacrificed for you. He had plans, dreams, and goals. It is not that you do not understand or accept his dreams, it is that you see him as not even being worthy of having dreams. Shit, in your heart of hearts you refer to him as the Automated Teller Machine... the money dispenser! What the fuck boys... even for teenagers, can you be any more self-centered?"

Frank had rage in his eyes; no one talked to him like that! Who did the old fart think he was? Frank surged up out of his chair, clenched his fists and took a step towards Zorran's desk.

Zorran reached into a desk drawer, withdrew a rather large revolver and placed it on the desktop aimed towards Frank and Mike. In a voice devoid of emotion, Zorran said, "Son, you are a few inches taller, more than a few pounds heavier and decades younger than me. If you take one more step towards my desk, I will be afraid for my life and use this to blow a hole through your fucking chest... we clear on this?"

Frank slowly sank back into his chair, his eyes bigger than saucers. It was the first time his size and strength didn't give him the upper hand in a confrontation. Mike looked like he had shit himself and was trying to look as meek and mild as possible.

Zorran looked over at Bill. "Bill... you are a shmuck. You have no self-identity and no self-esteem. You drive yourself into the ground day after day trying to take care of the unreasonable demands of that shrew over there and those two worthless parasites. They don't love you; they love what you can do for them. On your deathbed, they will be at your side; waiting so they can be the first to take the watch off your wrist."

Zorran continued. "My recommendation Bill is that you get yourself as far away from those three toxic personalities as possible. Do NOT file for divorce as you will lose your shirt to the court system. Move out, pay the minimum to show you are legally meeting your obligations; mortgage, taxes and half the utilities. No food, no clothes, NO entertainment. Susan can get a fucking job... so can Frank and Mike for that matter. Separate your finances, she will probably try to grab your existing savings and checking, if she has not already done that."

Susan looked down at her shoes. There was Bill's answer, she had already taken their money for herself!

"Does the bitch own her car?" asked Zorran.

Bill nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Is it in her name?" Zorran asked again.

Again, Bill nodded yes.

"Then cancel her insurance," Zorran said, "She can pay for her own or take the car off the road."

"Do the boys there have a car?"

Bill shook his head no.

"Good, then don't get them one or give them access to yours. It they take it out, call the cops and report it stolen. Further, it goes without saying, there will be NO financing college! If they can get in and want to go, let them finance it."

"Finally, move out. I suggest you take that job opportunity, with your friend, if you still can and get the hell away from these blood sucking leeches... SAVE YOURSELF!"

Zorran reached into another drawer and pulled out a rather thick folder. "Here you go," he said, "This contains all the legal papers you will need to separate your finances, file for separation, start legal proceedings to force the bitch to replace half the money she took, etc. Just fill in the blanks, take it down to the County Clerk's Office and file. Good luck."

"Oh yes, by the way," Zorran said, "I just remembered something." Zorran pulled a sheet of paper out from the pile on his desk and scanned it for a few moments. "It appears that a certain Tyrone J. Smith had a rather tragic accident this morning. He seems to have slipped in the shower... several times actually. The Doctors at Raccoon Memorial do not think he is going to make it. Seems that during one of his repeated slips, his testicles somehow got caught in the tub drain and were pulled off during subsequent slips. Poor guy just about bled out. Also, a Mr. Jamile Freeman was struck by a bus last night. He was crossing Oak Street at Raccoon Avenue, against the light, and stopped in the middle of the intersection to tie his shoelaces. The #42 express bus was traveling at a bit over 45 miles an hour when it hit him. The police made an investigation but between the driver's story, the fact Mr. Freeman was dressed all in black and the two on the scene eyewitness accounts, it was ruled an accident."

Zorran leaned back into his chair. Susan was hunched over crying into her hands. Frank and Mike were pressed as far back into their chairs as they could get, never having had the hide stripped off like they just had. Bill was a bit shocked... more so that someone other than himself saw what he had been trying to deny to himself for a long time, and was willing to put it into words; AND HAD NOT PLACED THE BLAME ON HIM!

Bill reached over the desk to take Zorran's hand in both of his. He vigorously shook it while grinning like a fool. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said.

Bill lurched up out of the chair and almost sprinted to the door. Susan watched him move; saw him pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he left; sure in her mind that Bill was already starting to implement Zorran's recommendations.