#75 Dream Wife
#75 Dream Wife It seemed our marriage was made in hell. She thought heaven sent me because I had a line of credit that she couldn’t seem to exhaust. But that was all I had. I worked in construction and earned every dollar I made by hard labor. When I got credit card statements saying I owed thousands, I begged her to stop spending. She went out and bought a car and a dress that matched. Then she wanted me to buy a house in Las Vegas with a garage for her car. She promised to stop spending, so I mortgaged my future for years and years. We moved in; she brought the most expensive designer furniture, rugs, blinds, and everything it took to outfit a house. When I could no longer pay my bills, I took her credit cards away from her. She forged my name to checks. I discovered she used the money to pay a male escort. In a rage, I hit her; she fell onto the white rug and bled until she died. I hadn’t intended to kill her, but since I had, I took her body to Devils Canyon in the desert, dug a hole and buried her. It was a great relief to be rid of her. A dust devil spun over her grave, and a white light swirled from the ground and hurled toward the sky at a speed almost too fast for my eye to follow. Imagination or guilt must have caused the vision to appear. I only did what had to be done. On the way back to Las Vegas, I stopped for gas. The proprietor said, “You came through haunted land. See anything weird out there?” I didn’t tell him about the white light. I went home and tried to scrub the blood out of the rug, but had to cut it out and replaced it. Anytime I went near that spot, I saw her in a pool of blood. I closed the door to that room and never wanted to go into it again. Things were fine for a while. Then one night it happened. My reanimated wife spun me out of my door and across the desert to her grave. “How can this be? You’re dead,” I said. “Only in your world. I’ve gone on to the next.” “Why have you brought me here?” “To sign on the dotted line.” “Wake up, wake up,” I told myself, full of fear. “You have to pay for what you did to me,” She said. In the next world your credit will be good, so I’m going to spend, spend, spend until you arrive. Then you’ll have to pay my bills. Go ahead and sign, or I’ll buy you a one-way ticket to hell.” “I’d rather go there than pay your bills.” A dust devil spun across the desert at a high speed. It stopped in front of me. In the middle of the swirling sand, Satan smiled at me. “You’re more than welcome to come to live in my domain, but before you make your choice, by law I have to warn you what your life will be like in hell. Down below, we sit around and drink all day and never have to work. And I understand that you did what any man would do to an unfaithful, spendthrift wife.” “How come I get to choose where I’ll go?” “When you buried her in Devil’s Canyon, you sent me her soul.” “But she’s in another world spending my dough before I even get there.” “I know. That’s what I told her to do.” “So I don’t have much of a choice. Go to another world and work my life away to pay her bills, or go to hell and sit around and drink all day. Not much to consider is there? I’ll choose hell over life with her.” The Devil smiled and led me by the hand to the highway where a semi-truck rolled over both of us. I saw what was left of my body lying on the road. Satan led me down below. Past dark caverns where giant insects feasted on souls. Past pools of bubbling excrement that rose to bury poor souls up to their necks and then to cover their noses, but receded once they had to take a breath. They all choked and gasped, gagged and made faces at the awful taste. “Hey, you said we sat around and drank all day!” “That’s what you’ll be doing.” He brought me to a place that was as hot and dry and sandy as Devils Canyon up above. I became thirstier than ever before. Hundreds of souls drank from fountains of cool-looking water, but as they tried to swallow, the water came out of their ears. “This is where you’ll sit around drinking all day.” The Devil laughed so loud that every soul in the place turned to watch and saw me trying to take a drink. Instead of going down my throat, water poured out of my ears. When they looked up, I recognized some of them from the bankruptcy court. How in heaven’s name did the banks manage to arrange a place like this for those of us who didn’t pay our bills? The end For more stories, poems, & other stuff. http://joedibuduo.com/ http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=joe+DiBuduo PLEASE SUBSCRIBE FOR$1. A MONTH TO ENABLE ME TO CONTINUE WRITING A STORY A DAY. IF I CONTINUE FOR A YEAR, I WILL WRITE 365 STORIES. You'll receive them all for $1. A month.