Want, Need, Must Have

Life, so complex.

Choices and consequences.

So many many choices.

So many many consequences.

So much to consider, it can make you dizzy.

4d chess anyone?

But, is that really the way of things?

Is it possible that life maybe simple?

If you can look at your world as if you are the young boy with a magnifying glass in hand and your life is the ant heap; perhaps that can help you to gain some perspective. When one truly looks at things from a somewhat detached point of view, it can bring some pretty amazing clearity.

What do your want?

What do you need?

What must you have?

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Meet Bob Wretchedenski. Bob is 42, married, 3 kids. Bob's wife, Mindy, has been (and is right now) making choices that will foist upon Bob consequences that offer up opportunities for Bob to make choices, that will have their own consequences.

For Bob, it has been and will continue to be a very tough night. The rain is falling sideways and Bob's windshield wipers were going for all they are worth, but they just aren't worth that much. The winds driving those rains slam into Bob's truck, shoving it around. The radio has just been noise to fill up the several hours drive. Bob, if he tried, can almost hear it over the storm's growing fury.

The storm was doing a number on the power lines. Arcs of sparks showered the road as Bob drove around downed lines, trees ripped from the ground and wind blown garbage cans.

He grips the wheel, white knuckling it. Outside the wind did howl. Sheets of metal roofing careen by; they are a clear and present danger.

Whap whap whap, the windshield wipers continued to beat a rhythm without appreciable impact. Bob finally pulls on to his darken street and up into his driveway.

There was a red sports car in his driveway.

Bob slams on his breaks, he almost hits it.

Bob is now home, but that hasn't stopped his high stress, adrenaline fueled day and night. Bob had been at it for over 15 hours. He long ago caught his second, third and fourth winds. He is keyed up. So keyed up he is jittery.

He grabbed his big wrench and heads through the storm to his front door.

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I arrive at the door like a drown rat. My house was dark, I figured it was because the power was out. I didn't know what I'd find. I thought I was ready for anything.

I put my key in the door, unlocked it and started to step in. Sparks shot across the street behind me. The light from the sparks and lightening revealed men's pants, socks, underwear and a shirt scattered around the living room and there were also a skirt, panties and a blouse.

I froze. I listened carefully. Finally I heard the sounds of people fucking over the storm. Lots of yea baby, fuck me and ooohs and ahhh coming from the upstairs.

I backed out, closing the front door. I was shattered. 15 years (well 14 year 7 month and 3 days to be precise) of marriage, poof, gone with the wind. The wind and rain slapped at my face. My stomach was doing flip flops, sweat broke out on my forehead. I know it doesn't make sense, but a feeling of utter calm spiked with red hot fury came over me.

I became very concerned about some people's safety.

I battled the storm back to my truck and climbed in. I fired it up and backed our of the driveway. I had the windshield wipers on max, and yet everything was still blurry. True, it might have been the tears streaming out of my eyes, and not the fault of the weather this time. I make it to the end of the street before I come completely apart.

I was a mess. Sobbing. The images in my head of my wife joyfully, lustfully, fucking her faceless lover took over. I opened my car door, thrust my head out, pukin what was left the fast food I had grabbed after I left the job site. The storm blew much of back in my face. Random thoughts of punishment and revenge echoes though my mind. I wasn't thinking. No internal speculations about just how close to getting the needle I was.

I wasn't planning on being home tonight. Tomorrow was Friday. That was when she thought I was coming home. The storm shut it all down. I put in a grueling 11 hours securing the job site before I pulled out into the storm. I headed home, dog ass tired. I was hoping to escape the nasty outside...only to discover a nasty inside.

I honesty think that was just about the exact moment I lost my mind. I grabbed my phone and called her...I was acting. There was no cognitive thought going on in my brain.

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, click "Hi this is Mindy! sorry I can't come to the phone right now, leave me a message, thanks!"

I hung up. I fumed.

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, click "Hi this is Mindy! sorry I can't come to the phone right now, leave me a message, thanks!"

I hung up again. I turned my truck around and headed back to my house. I don't know what I was thinking, but what ever it was, violence would be it's child.

My phone rang, it was Mindy...

I yelled over the noise from the storm outside, "I tried to call and let you know I will be home in a bit. The job was stopped by the storm. I tried calling you twice..."

"Bob I am sorry," she interrupted, talking over me, "I was in the bath and only just saw that you called."

I could hear some muffled sounds like she had coved the phone and was talking to someone.

"Mindy?" I said with a growl in my voice.

"Oh Bob, I am soooo happy you are coming home tonight! How long til you get here. The storm is really bad, and it will be great if my big guy could come and keep me safe!"

Now, that just pissed me off.... "I'm about 5 minutes from home, but with the storm, who knows." I said.

She was in a hurry to get off the phone. 'Ok sweety, be safe, I will see you soon." Click.

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Moments later I'm stopped, foot on the breaks, engine revving at high RPM, lights out, backed up into the alley that faces my driveway. I am watching MY front porch. MY front door opens, MY wife looks out and then pulls back in and then open's MY front door to let him out. I can see the kiss and the playful slap on MY wife's naked ass. He backs away, he is 'air kissing' her as MY front door closes; he turns to head to his car parked in MY driveway. He pulls his coat tight and battles the storm out to his car.

As the storm raged, I waited till he closed his car door. foot off the breaks, I stomped on the gas throwing roster tails of gravel behind me. The arcs of the electrical sparks from the dancing power lines and the lightening made my target as clear as day.

My truck has a shit ton of mass with all my tools loaded in it. As I shot across the street and up my driveway, my foot glued to the floor I actually yelled out "RAMMIN' SPEED!!!"

I blew the red sports car into and through the garage door, it was airborne when it slammed into my wife's (must have with 7 fuckin years of payments to go) SUV. The little red sports car's front crumpled. It's rear end smashed in tight. Think accordion. It bounced back towards me and my truck got a second kick at the cat.

When everything stopped moving I took stock. It was a good enough hit to even get my side airbags to deploy. Cool. I turned my high beams on.

The little red sports car was smaller. The crumple zones were all put to use. I could see his head, he wasn't moving. Shit. Did I kill him? Fuck.

I sit in my truck, gathering my thoughts. I noticed I didn't hurt, but I had a fury that was an even match for the storm.

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She was in a panic. Her HOT RICH lover was getting a kick out of her freaking out because her husband was just moments away.

He was actually laughing at her. He asked what did a slut like her expect? Fucking him in her husband's bed. He thought he was hilarious.

She had to promise him many things. She finally was able to get him almost out of the house. She cracked the front door, stuck her head out and peered out into the storm. No sign of Bob's truck. Her lover whispered in her ear, he told her not to clean up. He wanted her husband to feel his cum. She actually was excited by the wicked thought of having her lover and her husband the same night. Who knew who's sperm would win the race.

She breathed a very big sigh when she finally got him out the door. She rushed upstairs to strip the bed.

She didn't even make it to the bedroom when the whole house shook. The noise made less of an impression on her. Her first thought was the big old elm tree had fallen into the house. She rushed back downstairs. She could see through the living room window the old elm tree still standing, battling the storm.

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Bob sitting in his truck, looking at the wreckage that is his garage. His high beams painted the damage in high relief. Bob, grabs his large mag-lite flashlight, extracts himself from his truck. He checks out the front of his truck, he is impressed. it looks drivable. He then makes his way to the crunched red sports car. Bob reaches through the busted drivers side window. The guy was coming around. That answered that question.

Bob grabs the guy's head and starts slamming his face into the steering wheel.

BAM BAM BAM BAMBAMBAM Several teeth are busted out and sent flying. His nose is a bloody pulp, his eyes are going to be black in the morning.

It was Bob's wife's scream that caught Bob's attention. Bob pulls back out of the red sports car and looks at his wife standing naked in the doorway from the kitchen, screaming. He noticed cum running down her thigh, he can see her inflamed puffy red pussy lips. Her hair is a mess. She looks just fucked.

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She had made her way to the kitchen, she pulled the door to the garage open. The truck's high beams blinds her. All she sees, at first, is her wreaked car...that starts her screaming. Then she notices the smashed up red sports car, then a ominous dark figure outlined by the head lights. Lightning cracks, splitting the old elm tree out front...the lighting's prolonged flash reveals the dark figure as her husband. The pitch of Mindy's scream goes up.

She faints.

The storm's rage grew. A picnic table bench combo flew through the air, twisting and rolling, mowing a path down the street. A 2 x 4 sailing through the air punches a hole through the garage wall. The wind's howl was becoming deafening.

Bob watched his wife collapse. The crushed sport car entombed the ass. It was going to take the jaws of life to open that can thought Bob. Bob headed to the door, he had to get it closed. As pissed as he was (and Bob was way fuckin pissed), making it through the storm was first on Bob's to-do list. The gaping hole that was the garage door had ruptured the house's envelope. With that gaping hole, the storm would start taking the house apart. Bob was in damage control mode.

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Bob made his way to the door, grabbed his wife's arm and dragged her back into the kitchen. He closed the door and pulled the fridge over to help hold the door shut. He flicked on his flashlight and checked things out.

Inside was calm. The storm was been held outside. Bob called 911...nothing. He looks at his phone, no service.

He gathered his wife up and hauled her into the downstairs bathroom. He not so gently dumped her in the bath tub. He sat on the shitter thinking how his life was turning to shit. He hears something hit the house. In his bones he could feel his home coming apart.

Bob, looked at his wife...his eyes are drawn to the crusty dried cum on her pussy. His eyes followed her body, noticed her lover's marks upon her, up and into her now open eyes.

"Bob, I'm so"

"Just shut up!" Bob yelled over the storm. "Haven't you done enough!"

She curled back into herself. The storm could be heard ripping their house apart. Although they huddled together in the small dark bathroom, lit only by Bob's flashlight, they were miles apart.

Bob was doing all he could to keep his temper under control.

Bob's wife's mind was spinning. She couldn't seem to get a grip. She was emotionally frazzled, pychologically unhinged as well as physically spent from her hours of sexual activities. She was hungry after all that sex. She was cold and naked, shivering in the bathtub. She saw the rage in Bob's eyes...she was scared. Scared to trigger him. So she kept her mouth shut.

Not a lot was being said in the bathroom.

Bob broke their silence, 'Why?"

She hung her head, tears falling like the rain outside.

"What is his name?"

"Richard" she mumbled.

"Been going on long?"

"Only a couple of weeks."

"Do you love him?"

"No, it was just for the sex." She sobbed, feeling another piece of her marriage getting stripped away.

She continued, "Bob, what about Richard..." the words were caught in her throat. "Is he, did you...kill him?"

After a moment of silence Bob looked at her, "what do you care, he was just for sex."

The silence that descended between Bob and Mindy was only interrupted only by the screeching sound of boards being pulled away from their house by the storm.

"No." Said Bob after a fairly long pause. His no also was in response to the pain in Bob's heart. Bob turned the flashlight off to save the battery. No more words were said, no thoughts shared. It was a dark ugly silence between them.

After a time it was Mindy who spoke.

"Bob, for you, not for me or for him, but for you. You can't leave him out there. You are not the kind of man who would leave any man out there." She said, pleading her case.

The worst part was, she knew her husband, and she was right. If he left the ass, well, it just wasn't what he would do, if he was true to himself. Mindy was sure that if he did leave Richard to suffer his just fate, Bob would, she believed, deep down, never forgive himself.

The very short conversation ended when the other part of the old elm tree crashed into the living room.

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Consequences have now lead Bob to make his choice to leave the relative safety of the bathroom and propelled him to dance with the pounding storm; through the wreckage of his home, to save the life of the man who was party to unleashed the storm in Bob's head, heart, home and family.

What a fucked place for Bob to be.

Bob made his way through the wreaked living room over his mother's heirloom chair (the only tangible thing that ties Bob to his poor dead saintly mother and her family) lies busted in to little pieces smashed by the ever so large limb of the old elm tree.

In the bathtub, safe from the storm, Bob's wife was in the dark, surrounded by the sounds of the storm outside. Inside of her was the sick realization that she was on the very edge of ruin. her insides were churning. Mindy and her mind were as much of a mess as her home.

The old elm tree that had survived decades of storms, but this storm was the end of the line for the old elm tree.

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When Bob finally pulled the fridge back from the door he was able to reach his garage. It was beyond a mess. The roof had been torn off, one wall standing, the other, simply gone. What was left of the grage door was partly pined between the little red sports car and Mindy's SUV; it flapped like a flag in the breeze. Everything in the garage was exposed to the fury of the storm.

Anything not tied down was gone with the wall. His truck, was rocking and rolling yet still held all the cars in place. His wife's SUV was jammed tight against the back wall, the red sports car still hung in there, Bob's truck's front bumper held the back of the little red sports car down.

Bob peered into the sports car. The guy didn't look good. He was pasty white. The wind gathered strength and attacked again. The wind would get under the little sports car and bounce it up and down and all around, slamming its passenger about. His head bobbed like he is a bobble head doll.

Bob tried both doors. They were showing no sign of cooperating. Bob headed for his truck for better tools than just his hands.

He grabbed his hard hat that had a miner's lamp, utility knife, sledge hammer and a 5 ft. crowbar and headed back to the sports car.

He eventually had to smashed through the windshield. Then he cut "Richard" out of his seatbelts and hauled him out through the windshield and over what was left of the hood then dumped him on the floor. Bob dragged him back through the kitchen, no point in closing the door. Over the old elm tree in the living room and back into the cramped bathroom. Where he dumped "Richard" on the floor.

He looks at his wife, "happy now?"

Bob sitting on his shitter looks at his watch...he had only arrived home a bit over an hour ago, it seemed like it has been lifetimes.

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Somewhere around 4 am they could sense the worst of the storm was over. "Richard" was awake. It seemed to Bob that he wouldn't shut up, no question Richard is a dick.

"Richard" crossed so many lines when he was, in great detail, telling Bob what a slut his wife is. How much fun it was to fuck her. How he fucked her. How she fuck him back. He took great delight at twisting the knife. This was always the best part of fucking with wives, fucking over the husband. "Richard" got a kick out of it all.

"Richard" went on and on about how he now owned her pussy...so he owned her. His evidence...he fucked her in Bob's bed that very night. Then he pointed out his marks on her...one by one...the how and the why of each mark. He told Bob all the words his wife had used with him...and what she had promised to let him do in the future, how very easy it was to get her into bed. And then again and again until finally tonight. No hotel rooms for "Richard", only a slut's marriage bed would do.

A dispassionate observer would have been justified in assuming "Richard" had a death wish.

Bob's wife sobbed, but didn't say anything. That spoke volumes to Bob.

All good times must come to an end. So too did this night. About 6 am Bob kicked open the bathroom door and marched in to the rubble of what was.

Bob looked around. The whole front of his house as well all but one wall of the garage were just gone. Rubble was a good word for it. His cell phone had 2 bars. He called 911. When he finished his call he headed for his truck. As Bob climbs into his truck, all he really knows for sure is he needs to be someplace else.

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Mindy was staying at her parent's with the kids. There was no place else to go. It was where the kids road out the storm. It was the only port after the storm for Mindy.

She hadn't explained why Bob wasn't around. The aftermath of the storm left so much to be done, Mindy wasn't pressed too hard on that, yet.

Mindy, at her core was terrified. To loose Bob. To become a single mother of 3 kids. It's not like she and Bob were rolling in dough. Things were tight, that's why Bob took those jobs out of town. Even though he hated being away from his family, he did it for his family. There was no way the family could make it without both of them pulling together.

Mindy hadn't heard from Bob. It was going on the third day. There was all the chaos with the insurance guys, her dad helped her with that. The kid's school was badly damaged, so they were underfoot. Mindy's mom pulled her weight dealing with her grand kids.

Mindy didn't know what to do. So she just tried to put one foot in front of the other...kinda like the Bataan Death March.

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Bob was miles away, in fact two states over. Bob in the Ramada Inn's bar, where he was fast becoming a fixture, reflected on his life by peering into almost empty whiskey glass.

Bob had come to view Ralph, the bartender, in a almost mystical sense. Every time Bob's whiskey glass was close to empty, Ralph appeared and his whiskey glass was refreshed...as if by magic. No words were exchanged...almost as if Ralph could read his mind.

His wife...

His kids...

Bob was lost. He wanted to hit back. Bob was angry.