Promises, Promises Pt. 03

Tears were running down my wife's face. Ken's eyes were laughing. "So Uncle Bill isn't coming down from the hills to hunt me?"

Penny wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "No, that—"

"It's okay, honey. I told Mr. Sabini about Uncle Guillermo, the CPA."

"I wonder if Uncle Bill can help us with this."

"The Rough Men are ready to stand by you, Professor and Doctor Smith. But since you're the target, you have to decide how you want this handled."

"If we announce our relocation quickly enough, then there's nothing for them to attack."

"Don't underestimate them, Professor."

"I told you to call me Larry a long time ago."

"Don't underestimate them, Larry."

Penny had a look on her face; a look that from experience, terrified me. It was the same expression she had when she wanted to get shot out of a cannon, when she wanted to go to a strip club, fuck a Papuan... She had an idea, an impulse, and that promised trouble.

"Gentlemen, I just had an idea and I need a couple of days to think it through."

I felt like I was going to faint. Penny had an impulse, but this time she was putting off acting on it till she'd thought about it. My wife had truly repented, changed for the better.

"Is Mirling really planning to seduce me? I already spurned him."

Ken pulled out his notebook and looked through a few pages. "Nope. Some young guy Matthew who sweeps a warehouse. Dropped out of university."

"Ah," I said. "A true member of the proletariat."

"Not really. He spends most of his free time demonstrating or drinking lattés at Starbucks. His parents are well off."

"How about if I let this guy think he's seducing me?"

"Why? Penny, let's just leave these assholes behind us, an ocean away."

"Because then they'll find another target, one that doesn't have the smartest woman in the state, along with the support of the Rough Men."

"What's your plan?"

"I haven't worked one out yet. Let me call Uncle Bill. Can we get together again in a couple of days?"

Ken rose. "No problem. In the meantime, I'll have Rough Men riding by your place regularly. And Penny... I forgive you. I still want to learn more quantum biology from you."

My wife jumped up, wrapped her arms around her pseudo-Papuan lover and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Ken. I need to learn more from you on how to be a friend, rather than a self-centered bitch." She unlatched herself from him and looked at me. "But only if you really approve."

Penny and I quickly slipped into our old habits, our pre-Papuan relation. We chatted, we joked, we made love. On Tuesday evening she insisted I shower before dinner. When I was sufficiently dry she pulled out a tube of bronzing cream, and lathered it over my entire body. She clipped a few feathers to my hair and wrangled an enormous hoop earring onto my nose. The cut-off sleeves of a red and white striped 'Where's Waldo' shirt went on my arms, and Penny hung a rabbit pelt over my dick, secured by a rope she tied around my waist. I stood there, naked, intrigued and erect as my wife eyed me up and down. "Okay, you'll do."

"What will I do?"

She led me over to the mirror. "You see, this was my first mistake. Instead of looking for a Papuan to fuck, I should have made one myself."

"I'm Papuan now?"

She nodded. "Take me now, you savage. Dine on my flesh. If you do a good job, there's a tofu curry waiting for you afterwards."

"What! You know I think vegetarians should be prosecuted."

"I'm the flesh you're going to consume."

My wife certainly was full of surprises. I did my duty as a pseudo-cannibal, feasting on all of Penny's succulent features.

The tofu curry which followed was bland by comparison, despite the hot peppers. Anything with tofu always is. It was getting late in the evening and all I was wearing was the bronzing cream. The earring, feathers, etc. had come off while I was eating my wife. I wanted to put on a robe, but Penny objected. We sat down in front of the TV and watched a BBC Earth program about Kuru, a disease spread by eating contaminated human brains. It had been widespread among some Papuan tribes. My wife confirmed that the TV listing had inspired our evening of feasting on each other's flesh.

I wondered what was on tap on Wednesday evening as we finished our bucket of fried chicken. Penny's phone dinged. She looked at a message, then looked at me. "Time to put on our costumes. We have to pretend to be civilized tonight."

"What now? We still have dessert."

"Put the watermelon back in the fridge. We're going to Starbucks for that. We need to reconnoitre."

"Penny, what the hell are you up to now?"

"Matthew, the guy who's supposed to seduce me usually hangs out at a Starbucks about twenty minutes from here. He just left work."

"How do you know that?"

"I've got someone high up in the Aryan Nations shadowing him."

I shook my head in wonder. Fifteen minutes later we were out the door, Penny was dressed like a... well, like a bimbo. Her skirt was too short, her blouse was too tight, and her bra was missing. My disguise was as an ordinary person with a good tan; the bronzing cream would take a few days to wear off. She put horn-rim glasses on my face and popped a New York Yankees cap onto my head. I shivered; I hated the Yankees, as did every red-blooded American. Penny went into the Starbucks ahead of me; as per her instructions I sat a few tables away. She went to the counter to order, standing on her toes while pretending to read the menu, but actually to show off her ass to anyone who was interested.

There were a bunch of college-age guys sitting nearby who looked very interested. One of them had a Mohawk hairdo, another had a shitload of hideous piercings, a third had the words "I fight fascists" on his t-shirt. A fourth looked like a normal human being.

As Penny stood the counter, a big, mean looking Hispanic guy came up to her, put his arm around her waist and started whispering in her ear. Penny shook her head and told him to leave her alone. He took a step back, but let loose a stream of lewd invitations, which my wife kept on ignoring. The guy looked like he was getting pissed when the t-shirt kid stepped between them, and politely asked the big man to leave the young lady alone.

"You ready to fight a fascist?" I smiled as Uncle Guillermo threatened Penny's defender, and wondered what my wife had in mind, beside the croissant that was now in her hand. The little prick insulted Bill, not backing down. I had to admire his courage, or maybe it was just stupidity. "Come outside, little man. I don't want to dirty the floor with your blood." Uncle Bill was getting pissed.

I faked a loud sneeze, and as he glanced my way, I shook my head. Guillermo grabbed the kid by the shoulder and announced that the little punk wasn't worth the effort of washing the blood off his clothes. He pointed at my wife as he stomped out, saying "you're mine, mamacita".

She was soon at the hero's table, chatting with him and his friends. I watched as she pulled out her phone and sent a message. Mine dinged. "Wait in the passenger seat in the car. I'll be right out." I picked up the muffin I'd been nibbling on and obeyed.

The guys followed her outside. She blew them all a kiss, promised to call, and then climbed in beside me. "I've got all their names and phone numbers. Matthew was the one who 'saved' me from Uncle Bill. I'm going to invite him to a private party at my lab. What do you think?" She floored the pedal on our Toyota.

"I have no clue what you're up to."

"I'll get him alone, tie him up hinting that it's for kinky sex, and then... I haven't worked it out completely. Maybe irradiate him, give him cancer. Maybe I can test the procedure for blocking energy transfer on him. I'll come up with something. Maybe just have Bill beat the hell out of him."

"Penny, you're talking murder, or at least a grievous assault. Forget it."

She pulled up to our building. "You want to let them carry out their plans? You want to allow them to silence anyone who disagrees with them?"

"I don't want to be married to a felon or a felon's niece. You don't like those jerks passing judgement on others and then silencing them. You're ready to kill the people you've passed judgement on. That's a little more serious." We sat down beside each other on the couch, me trying not to leave crumbs all over the place as I finished my muffin; Penny taking delicate bites of her croissant.

She licked my fingers clean as I finished. My stomach wasn't satisfied but looking at my wife's outfit made me hungry in a different way. Considering her plot to kill our foes ruined that appetite. She leaned her head against my shoulder, and we sat quietly for a couple of hours. Unlike in previous months we were together in this silence.

A glance out my window in the morning showed a dilapidated small car parked across the street, with the driver looking casually out the window. When I left for work it was still there. I immediately called Penny, told her not to open the front door, and to leave through the garage. She looked out the window and saw the driver walking towards our door. I did a U-turn in the middle of the street and headed back, almost hitting a Harley that was heading in the same direction. The bike pulled into our driveway, blocking the way to our entrance. A second bike quickly joined it. The dude from the car looked at the bikers, looked at his watch and turned around as if he had forgotten something. He headed back to his car. I jumped out of mine and ran towards the door. The bikers held up their hands to stop me and demanded identification.

I presumed they were friends of Sabini, part of the Rough Men, so I cooperated, and thanked them for their vigilance. They told me to call Ken. I was trembling as I walked back in the door.

Penny wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered, "Are you still against grievous assault?" I didn't know what to say.

"He must have followed me home from Starbucks last night." Penny slid her hands down to my back as she spoke.

I stepped back and put a finger under her chin. "Or they looked it up online, genius."

She laughed. "Yeah, that too. Now what?"

"Have you read any of my papers on how responses to violence determine the outcome of civilization?"

"All of them."

That was stunning. She had so much to work on in her own field, yet she found time to read my papers. I was a prolific author.

"And your two books. Why do you suppose I suggested a violent response to those filthy little pricks? Don't you believe in your own theories? It's easy to talk about how other people should be ready for violence. Not so easy when you have to do it yourself." She raised two fists as if she was boxing. "Ready to kick some fascist Antifa ass?"

"I'd rather have someone else do the kicking for me."

"Like who? Ken and his bikers? Don't want to get your hands dirty?"

I fixed myself a cup of coffee as I pondered the matter. "How about Uncle Bill's favorite client?" I was treading on dangerous ground here. The Aryan Nations were dangerous and paranoid. If we could get them to go after Mirling and his minions, Antifa wouldn't be bothering anyone for a while.

"I'll phone him."

She made the call, and we decided to go to work. We weren't going to let ourselves be intimidated by hoodlums. I told Penny I was worried about her safety. She pulled a small gun out of her handbag and assured me I didn't have to be concerned.

"How long have you had that?"

"Since I was thirteen. I didn't want to depend on anyone else to defend my honor. Flashing my gun usually did the trick."

"Usually?"

"I shot a kid who didn't understand 'no.' There were enough witnesses that I wasn't charged."

"Did you... um"

"I hit his thigh, just below his crotch. He survived."

At that point that I realized I'd spent my life in an ivory tower. I'd preached about violence, but never really encountered it. My wife had. Uncle Guillermo had. Ken and his bikers made it their vocation. It was time for me to practice what I preached.

One of my recent academic papers dealt with how social media propagated violence. I knew how they worked, and how to turn them to my advantage. Giving their phone numbers to Penny had been a bad move on the part of Matthew and his buddies. Facebook posts and tweets from spoof accounts started appearing randomly on their social media feeds. "Let's go ni**er hunting" or "we'll stop the K*kes from taking over" was their general theme, making it sound like an attack was being planned. The posts came from accounts with names similar to those of leading members of Aryan Nations. The anti-fascists took the bait and decided to go to war.

We made it easy for them. An Aryan Nations family was planning a barbecue at a community center not far from their headquarters. Somehow that information appeared in the social media of Matthew et al. The results weren't pretty. Of the fifteen guys who took part in the Antifa assault, ten had to be hospitalized and one had to be buried. Matthew must have been well practiced as a coward, because he managed to run away when the Aryan Nations reinforcements appeared.

There are programs and websites that check academic work for plagiarism. They're usually used to ensure students don't cheat. One of the Rough Men, a first-rate software engineer, set up a routine that tested every paper Mirling ever wrote. It found plagiarism in many. He passed the results to a local science writer who made an anonymous story go viral. Though Mirling denied it was true, his credibility went to zero. He was stripped of his tenure and invited to resign.

Last on the list was the brat who was supposed to seduce my wife in order to destroy my reputation. Penny wanted to let Matthew seduce her; at least let him think he did. The disastrous raid on the Aryan Nations hadn't taught him a thing. She hung out at his Starbucks for a few days, drinking lattés and acting like the bimbo he thought her to be. When he made his move, she told him that she couldn't bring him home, but had a key to the lab where she worked as an aide. "There's a cot there we can use."

I can't say in detail what happened, because I wasn't there. The next morning, sitting at our kitchen table, my wife proudly described how Matthew let himself be strapped down without any protest. He thought the cock cage and the electrodes attached to his body were for some wild sexual adventure. My wife was quite pissed at being considered a bimbo, so she loaded a Jeopardy app onto her computer, setting it to the highest level of difficulty. Penny explained that if Matthew got a correct answer before she did, she would give him a blow job. If he got two, she would free him and fuck his brains out. For every question she answered first, he would get a small electrical shock. The answers were things like 'what's the cube root of six thousand,' or 'what's the line between the northern and southern US states.' 'Name the island Nagasaki is on.' The idiot said "Japan" for that one. Penny didn't have any advance knowledge of the questions.

They weren't big jolts, but after three hours of getting zapped while fastened naked to a cot, Matthew was less arrogant. She untied his hands, allowing him to watch as she applied the cage key to a grinder, destroying it. She then presented him a series of clues she had made up; a kind of scavenger hunt so to speak, which he had to solve to find the other copy of the key. He had stumbled out the door, crying, begging and apologizing. My wife pulled out her gun and warned him that she'd shoot him the next time he bothered her.

Penny's account of her adventure with Matthew terrified me. I knew she was impulsive; I knew from experience she could betray me, and now I knew she was capable of great cruelty. Could she on a whim turn that cruelty on me? Was it time to cut her loose? But I had committed to taking her to Australia, and Australia National University was already preparing to bring her into their fold. She had promised to have me by her side, wherever she went.

I was flabbergasted as she finished her account. "What if he'd have answered a question before you? Would you have sucked his cock, or fucked his brains out?"

She shook her head in disgust. "No! Why would I do that?"

"Because you promised to?"

She went over to the Keurig and made herself another cup of coffee. After zapping it for twenty seconds she sat back down, both elbows on the table and stared at me. "Have you ever read a book called Promises of Peace?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar."

"In the last chapter the author posed the question of how to respond when a nation launches an unprovoked, all out war against another. Do you remember what he said?"

"Umm, probably something stupid?"

"He's a pretty smart guy actually. An all-out unprovoked war means the rules are suspended; the enemy is trying to destroy you. You must destroy him instead or make him so fearful that he'll never try it again. Pretty ruthless, isn't it?"

"But it's true. Look at all the nations that tried to befriend ruthless foes. They then have to fight the same war over and over again. Take Israel: always holding back when attacked, giving major territorial gifts to the Palestinians, and then getting rockets on their head in return. Liberals then bash them for refusing to let themselves be destroyed.

"If Truman had nuked Red China in the early days, the death toll would have been much lower than the tens of millions slaughtered in the Cultural Revolution. Korea would be a single prosperous country if the West had crushed the maniacal ruling dynasty when it had the chance. Instead there's a democratic prosperous south, and an oppressed impoverished north, with terrible hunger. Both of those countries are threats to the whole world. The opportunity to crush either of them has passed."

She took my hand across the table. "I get it, honey. I read your book. So when Mirling, Matthew et al planned a war to destroy you and besmirch my reputation by calling me a bimbo, what was the right response?"

I shouldn't be such a hypocrite. In my career I have espoused the need for societies to respond violently to many of the challenges they face. There were men (well, mostly men) who had to make the decisions, give the orders, take the lives of their foes. Many of them were heroes. Many of them died. Penny had responded to a threat to her husband and an insult to herself. She had bravely put herself forward while I hemmed and hawed about developing a strategy. How could I condemn my wife for doing what I preached had to be done?

I pulled her hand to my lips. "Your response was right." She caressed my cheek. "It's just that, well, you know... that thing with Sabini."

"I fucked up. I promise not to do anything like that again."

"Yeah, but you're so impulsive. You spent a night with that kid tied up and exposed, promising to fuck his brains out... Penny, it freaks me out."

"Larry my darling: I will try to tether my impulses."

"Do or do not. There is no try, " I said.

"Fuck Yoda. Gordon Lightfoot had a more human approach."

Penny has a pleasant voice. She sang softly: "I can't say I'll always do

The things you want me to.

I can't promise I'll be true

But I'll try. "

I felt an ache in my chest, in my head, in all my limbs. It was my love for this woman, a love so strong it overwhelmed every other feeling, every other thought that was in my heart, in my mind. "We should start packing for Canberra."