Bad Day

I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. I'd also like to add that we don't always see eye to eye, so I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

Bad Day

Yeah, it had been a bad day from the beginning. My wife Carol had been away visiting her sister Mary for the week and was due home that evening. I knew that she'd have a lot to say about my housekeeping skills when she arrived home as well. Well, I had planned to really get the place sorted the evening before, but some of the boys had shown up and wanted to play cards.

At first I'd refused and told them I needed to get the house sorted before Carol got home. But then one of the guys said they'd all pitch in and help clear the place up after the game. Yeah, great plan, but four hours and far too many cans of beer later that idea was completely forgotten about as some of the guys who could still walk went home whilst a couple of others passed out in the lounge.

Friday morning my two friends who'd stayed over and I had all overslept. I had a head that felt like someone had climbed inside and was trying to find his way out again using a Kango hammer. I dashed out of the house as fast as I could; Fridays are always really busy days for me at work.

When I arrived at the office, some Wanker had parked in my space; probably assuming that as I wasn't there on time, I wasn't coming into the office that day. Quite a lot of my working time is spent out of the office, visiting our companies various building projects around town.

I had to park what seemed like a bloody mile away and walk back to the office. Then I got a flea in my ear from my boss about being late for work and my secretary met me with a whole load of messages about things that had apparently gone wrong on just about every job we had on the go.

So still feeling like shit, I had to walk back to my car before I could drive around the various sites to discover what was so important it couldn't wait until Monday. But not before I'd found the tosser who'd parked his car in my bloody parking bay and tore him off a strip.

The traffic was horrendous as it normally is on Fridays and getting around the sites took all bloody morning. My head was thumping and just about every so-called urgent problem could really have waited a few days.

When I got back to the office about lunchtime, the car that had been parked in my bay that morning had gone. But some other bastard had parked his car in there. It was as I was bollocking that guy that my boss called me to join him and a potential customer in conference.

I hoped that they would like to talk over lunch, as I had eaten nothing since the night before and I was beginning to feel really hungry by then. I was also hoping that if I got something substantial in my stomach, I would stop feeling queasy and it might even manage to do something for my headache as well.

Several times I suggested that we go out and eat, but neither my boss nor the client seemed interested. It was nearly four o'clock when the meeting finally broke up and I still had a whole load of work on my desk to do.

My head still aching, I gave most of the reports I was supposed to peruse little more than a cursory glance. I asked my secretary to go out and find me something to eat. Unfortunately all the local sandwich shops had closed up early as they normally do on Fridays. I won't say what she came back with, but I think it was getting ready to walk away on its own. I didn't eat it.

By six o'clock, I'd finally managed to clear my desk, so that I could leave the by-then deserted office. Everybody else had left hours before. The drive home was in the thick of traffic again. Really I could have done with stopping off for something to eat on the way. But I had housework to do before I went to collect Carol from the station.

Entering the house I took some more aspirin. Shit, I'd tried everything that day but nothing seemed to have any effect on my headache. I thought about my shotgun, but that would have made even more mess for me to clear up. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that Carol could wake the dead when she gets on her high horse.

So there I was, vacuum cleaner in one hand, duster in the other, dashing around like a blue arsed fly when the bloody phone rang. It was Mary, telling me she'd dropped Carol at the station her end and watched her get on the train. I was instructed that I should be at the local station to pick Carol up at nine forty-five.

We exchanged a few pleasantries as you do, although I really can't stand my sister-in-law. She'd really stitched-up her husband Garry big-time in the divorce. I'd liked Garry and I was damn sure the little bitch had been running around on him. I'm not sure what made me so convinced, but there were things that didn't add up about her. And her claims that Garry had knocked her about, which he vehemently denied. But once Mary had the judge convinced, the poor sod didn't have a leg to stand on. He was bloody lucky he never went down for it.

Mary's phone call over, I set about my task with a vengeance and I was quite pleased with my efforts by the time I was putting the house-cleaning gear away at eight-thirty. But then I realised I hadn't emptied the rubbish bin in the kitchen. When I got outside, I realised I'd forgotten to put the bin out for the council guys to empty that week. I could just imagine Carol's voice. "That dustbin smells terribly. Why didn't you put it out for the men?"

I did a bit of lateral thinking and I thought it would be prudent of me to shove the bin-bag in the back of my car and drop it in the skip on the building site down the end of the road on my way to the station. I'd have to spray some smellys around the car, but I was sure that Carol wouldn't figure out why.

Best laid plans of mice and men and all that. I'd carefully tied the top of the bag, but as I was carrying it to the garage to put it into the car, when it got snagged on the door jamb. The damn thing ripped open showering crap everywhere. Almost in panic, I retrieved another bag from the kitchen draw and set about the disgusting task of picking all the rubbish up again. But as I was doing so something caught my eye.

A little cardboard envelope with the word "Durex" printed on it. Oh, for you folks down in the Antipodes, I'm told Durex is or was the name of the biggest selling brand of sticky tape down there. Whether that's true or not, unfortunately Durex is the name of one of the leading, or most famous, brands of contraceptives in the UK.

Now as I'd had a vasectomy after our youngest was born seventeen years before, I couldn't see that Carol had any reason to have Durex in the house. Strangely you might think, I do keep some Trojans in the garage though. Mainly to keep my matches in when I go hiking and camping on the moor with the Boy Scouts. I help out with the Scouts sometimes.

Okay, you can understand that some little bells, or should I say, rather large bells were ringing in my head. What would Carol possibly want with Durex? No prizes for giving me the answer to that one; I was already there.

Okay, time for some quick thinking. Contraceptives equal shagging, and they are used as protection against becoming pregnant and/or catching a disease. Well, for a start, I haven't got any diseases (that I know of anyway) and I can't make Carol pregnant because I've had the chop. So just who was it Carol has been shagging and when?

Further searching amongst the rubbish turned up two more empty Durex packets. Fuck me, Carol, at three rubbers to a packet; that means you shagged someone nine times last week. No, come on, think sensibly, man. Carol's been away at Mary's all week and you're quite sure that Mary puts it about a bit. Now here you find the outer packets for nine Durex. Jesus Christ, Carol went off on a bleeding fucking spree with her sister. Well, that's the most logical conclusion I could come up with.

I was very pleased with my self-control when I picked Carol up from the station. I was five minutes late and she was annoyed at being kept waiting. Carol was even more annoyed that I didn't get out of the car to put her suitcase in the boot. She did ask me what the other cases were doing in there but I steadfastly refused to reply to her. I think it was my silence that first gave her the idea that something was cooking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her looking around as we drove, she obviously realised that we weren't headed for our own house and I think my not replying to her gibes at the station had unnerved her. She didn't actually speak again until we pulled up outside her mother's house.

"Why are we here?" Carol asked. I could hear the trepidation in her voice.

"Because this is where I assume you're going to you live from now on."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you really don't expect to live in my house after you've shagged nine men. Or was it one man nine times. Although you might have brought some more, so it could be a hundred men or one man a hundred times for all I know. No matter, you are no longer a wife of mine."

"Have you gone mad? What the hell are you talking about?" Carol's words were confident but her voice was definitely not the commanding one she usually used.

"Carol, you went to Mary's prepared for an orgy that I assume you've enjoyed. No wife of mine is going to fuck around on me and expect to remain my wife. Now, please, get out of my car and take your gear with you. It's in those other cases in the back; you can collect what else you want over the weekend."

"But I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't been with anyone."

"Okay, prove it."

"How?"

I fished the empty Durex packets from my pocket and threw them on the dashboard. "Just put the original contents back inside those."

Carol picked up one of the packets. "What are these? Oh, contraceptives! Where did you get these from?"

I've got to give it to her; she really did look confused. I'd have given Carol top marks for acting.

"Where you left them. Where do you think I got them?"

"But I've never seen them before."

"I don't believe you, Carol. Now if you can't put the contents back, please get out of the car so that I can go home."

"No!"

I hadn't bargained for this. I thought once she knew I'd caught her out she'd fold her hand straight away.

"Carol, get out of the car please." I was sure that was a mistake as soon as I said it. I shouldn't have said "please" since it could be construed as weakness.

"I will not get out of this car until we get home to our house."

"Carol, it isn't our house anymore. It was my house before we were married and it will be my house after the divorce."

"What divorce?"

"Our divorce. I told you I've no intention of staying married to a woman who sleeps around."

"I don't blame you. I wouldn't stay married to a husband who slept around either."

I'd missed something somewhere along the line, and I was having difficulty working out what Carol was talking about now.

"So you agree that sleeping around is good enough reason to end the marriage."

"Of course I do!"

"Then why won't you get out of the car."

"Are you telling me that you've been sleeping with other woman whilst I've been away and want a divorce so that you can be with her?"

Just a minute! Where was this conversation going now? Did she just accuse me of sleeping around?

"Now hold on. What are you trying to pull here? I didn't put those Durex packets in our bin. You did. It's you who's been sleeping around."

"I can assure you I've never seen those things before. What possible reason could I have for buying them? You've had a vasectomy so you can't make me pregnant. And besides you've got that great big box of them hidden in the garage. If I wanted to use one, which I never have by the way, I could take one from there. I doubt you'd ever notice."

That took the wind out of my sails. I had no idea Carol knew about that bulk box of Trojans in the garage. I was suddenly on the defensive and felt I had to explain what they were there for.

"I use them when I go camping with the Scouts to keep my fire lighting gear dry." I blurted out.

See how women work. Clever aren't they? We'd started talking about her Durex and somehow I was explaining away my Trojans.

"Do I look stupid, Jim? I've known that for years. Who do you think goes through your rucksack when you get home to make sure you haven't left any dirty clothing in there to stink us out of house and home?"

"Get the subject back on track, Jimmy, my boy. Carol's taking you off on a tangent here," I thought to myself.

"My Trojans have nothing to do with these Durex packets and where the contents are, Carol."

"No they don't, I'll give you that, but think about things logically, Jim. You've got a great big box of contraceptives hidden in the garage. Can you tell me how many are left in there?"

"No, but what's that got to do with anything."

"There's thirty-six left, out of a box of fifty."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I've counted. You use two every time you go camping. Oh, and one time you lent Mike a couple when he didn't have any. He gave you back two Durex and they are still in the box. What's up? Don't you like Durex?"

"You count my Trojan's? Why would you do that?"

"For the same reason you're so uptight about finding those Durex packets in the rubbish sack. Tell me, Jim, just why were you searching through our rubbish anyway?

"The bag split when I was putting it in the car. I forgot to put the bin out for the bin men on Wednesday and I thought I'd drop the rubbish in a skip. The bag just split open."

"And you had to pick it all up again. That will teach you not to be a cheapskate; I told you those bags from the market were useless."

"You're changing the subject, Carol. We should be talking about those Durex and who you've been sleeping with."

"Jimmy, I haven't shared a bed with anyone but you since that day we got engaged. Not counting the children, that is, and you've had them in bed with you as well."

"Those Durex say different."

Oh, they do, do they. Now I couldn't fault your logic, but for one point you haven't thought of."

"And what's that?"

"Someone else could have put them in the bin."

"Who would want to do that?"

"Well, let's work it out, shall we. Where did we go last Saturday before you dropped me at Mary's house on the way back?"

"Dover to drop Martin and his friend off at the ferry."

"And tell me, where were they going?"

"Don't be silly, Carol. You know they are backpacking around Europe all summer."

"Now shall we put two and two together? Two hormonal nineteen year old boys heading for the south of France for the summer. Where all those gorgeous young women lay around in bikinis all day. And the boys were carrying nothing but backpacks. Don't I remember someone telling his son not to carry any unnecessary weight in his backpack?"

"Are you telling me...?"

"I'm suggesting that's the most logical explanation I can come up with for those Durex packets being in the bin. But you can find out for sure tomorrow, Martin has promised to call at ten in the morning to let us know he's alright. That's why I came home tonight instead of tomorrow, I want to hear from my son. Anyway you can ask him about those Durex packets yourself. Now, do you still want me to get out of the car?"

"Oh, I got it all wrong, didn't I?"

"Yes, James, you did."

"Are you angry with me?"

"Yes and no. I'm angry that you'd think I'd want any other man than you. But at the same time, I'm flattered that you'd think any other guy would want to romp with a fat old forty-five year old mother like me."

"You're not fat and you certainly aren't old. You're gorgeous. I'm always telling you so, aren't I?"

"How could I be angry with the man I love when he says things like that? Come on, shall we go somewhere dark and park, or are you going to take me home and ravish me."

I drove home; I'm a bit too old for gymnastics in the car.

Ah, well, life goes on. But Carol still gave me a bollocking over my housekeeping abilities, but that wasn't until after Martin's phone call on the Saturday morning. We didn't get out of bed until he called, we'd been to busy.

Life goes on.