Nip It in the Bud (750 word story)

Story Sentence: Ending a 25-year marriage in 750 words.

Author's note: Don't get your panties wadded up. It's not to be taken seriously. This one is in the same spirit as "Whup! There it is."

Story:

"Honey, I'm in the living room. Please come here and sit. We need to talk."

Damn it! Horry only wanted to eat whatever canned meal Surrey heated, grab a beer, watch Chicago Fire, and go to bed. Just perfect! This day couldn't get any shittier. "Coming dear." Horry saw his wife sitting nervously on the couch. A half empty bottle of California Red was on the table. Surrey tipped her empty glass bottoms up and drained the last few drops into her mouth, then quickly poured another full glass. He plopped into his recliner unceremoniously. "What?"

"Horry, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I've been a loyal and faithful wife to you, and a good mother to the kids my whole adult life. They are on their own now, so my job is done. As you know, I was a virgin when we married..."

"So was I." Horry quickly interrupted. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

"Whatever, I'm going away this weekend with a friend..."

"What's his name?" Horry's patience was already gone.

"If you must know, it's Stan..."

"You mean, your boss, Stanley Carrington? I think our son is older than him!"

"Don't be petulant, Horry. He's thirty. Give me some credit. At any rate. I want to experience other men. I know you love me and will let me have this little distraction. When it's over I will make it up to you, and our life will go on."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, get real, Surrey. If you do this, our marriage will be over."

"Quit being so melodramatic, Horry. You aren't going to divorce me over this little thing. Besides it would cost you too much."

"That's true, but I would lose a cheating whore wife, though."

Surrey rolled her eyes, ignoring Horry's insult. "Furthermore, Stanley will be picking me up Friday evening. I expect you to invite him in. He was a little nervous about this, so I thought seeing you were ok with it would help him get over it."

"Seriously? You want me to entertain your boyfriend while you finish getting dressed for your weekend fuckfest with him?"

"Don't be crude, Horry. But yes, that's what I expect you to do. Offer him a drink too."

"Yes, Dear."

Needless to say, things were a bit frigid around the Bismarck home leading up to Friday evening. Horry slept on the pullout bed in the den.

The only comment from Surrey was, "Really, Horry, you are being so childish."

Promptly at 7PM Friday night, the doorbell sounded out a new melody.

"Horry, what was that awful sound?"

"It's the doorbell sweetie, I changed the music."

"What is that tune? It is hauntingly familiar."

"It's called El Deguello, dear." He called out to her." Surrey had been primping all afternoon and still wasn't ready.

"Well, I don't like it. Please change it later. Now let Stanley in. I still need another 15 minutes to get ready. Make sure and offer him a drink. He likes bourbon."

"Of course, dear." Horry peaked through the viewer and confirmed it was that little turd, Stanley. He opened the door wide. Stanley had a smirk on his face that lasted until Horry crushed his nuts with one vicious kick from his Tony Llama pointed toe alligator boots. As poor Stanley grabbed his crotch and began to crumple forward, Horry hit Stan's jaw with his knee. Stanley vomited, fell to the decking, and was down for the count. Horry closed the door and returned to his TV show.

20 minutes later Surrey made her grand entry and looked around confused. "Where's Stanley?"

"He decided to wait on the porch."

"Honestly, Horry, you better not have been rude to him, or..."

"I swear I never said a word to him, honey."

Surrey dropped her purse and overnight bag on the counter and flung the door open.

"Oh my God, Horry! What did you..." was all she got out before Horry gently pushed her behind with his boots to clear the doorway.

He closed the door and double locked it.

"Horry, you monster, let me in!" She was bawling profusely and pounding furiously on the door.

"Surrey, please look towards the street. There should be a man approaching you. He has some information for you." Horry called out loudly through the closed door.

"Mrs. Surrey Bismarck?"

"Y-y-yes?"

"You've been served."

Another thud from the porch.

The next day Horry changed the doorbell music to Bach's, "Come, Sweet Death."