Apparently I’m a Terrible Person

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It was bound to happen someday. I messed up with my wife…big time. You all saw it coming. You knew I couldn’t string along the consecutive not-screwing-up streak much longer. And this transgression might just be the deal-breaker with our relationship. It’s really too bad, actually. I thought we had a good thing going. Now here I sit…quite literally…inside the doghouse out here in the yard.

What happened you ask? Honestly I don’t know…she won’t tell me. All she has let me know is that I was bad…really bad…downright mean to her. I quickly think of what has left my lips that I couldn’t quite retrieve back and I still can’t find something so egregious that I would find myself in this predicament.

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I really wish I knew what it was, but the possibilities are just too numerous to count. I asked her what it was, and she just rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. And now it’s raining. Swell. Did you know that anchovies make dogs throw up? I didn’t either, but here I sit and there it is. I just wish I could turn back time and find out what it was the upset the balance of our marriage. All I know is that I was having a normal morning and then she woke up and told me that I had been really mean…downright terrible…in the dream she had.

Having lost the ability to quickly explain the space-time continuum, and how I could not possibly be held responsible for the faults of my fictitious self, well, here I am counting spiders on the wood in the interior of this doghouse. Is that a black widow? Perhaps a brown recluse? Both viable possibilities, and both less dangerous than a wifey scorned by a version of a husband in a dream.

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You see, I don’t have the benefit of reality and physics to weigh my error in judgment and possible ways to improve my situation. Heck, I could have cheated on her with a thousand girls, perhaps from other planets. Maybe I traveled back in time and kicked her dog when she was a kid. Honestly, I just don’t know. Oh look, rusty nails. When was the last time I had a tetanus shot? All I know is that I had better have a long conversation with my dream self if I want to get my real self out of here…but wait…what if I’m the dream self and my real self was the one that messed up? So this is where my slipper turned up.



Published by Alan Reese

Greetings blog wanderers and seekers of truth, or whatever truth appears to be from the mind of a warped individual. You have reached the inner sanctum of some guy named Alan. Having graduated college sometime shortly after the Earth cooled, he finds himself in his late 30's and working out in the real world. His humor is dry and his outlook not so serious and somehow has picked up the nasty habit of writing about himself in the third person. He is married with child and loves his family, sports and, of course, his beloved video games...likelihood of his growing up? Not good. Are you an established site or magazine looking for a writer? Drop me a line if you are interested.

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