Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Ann

I remember the day he told me we were through. He said it so simply, so nonchalant. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.

He’d fallen in love with a twenty-two-year-old college girl, who worked as a bartender to help pay the way for school. What was left after, you know, Daddy paid a good chunk. That was where he met her; at O’Malley’s, the bar he spent every night at for the last three years. When our marriage started to fracture bit by bit each day, he took up social drinking. First he only had one drink, then he would come home. As our marriage slowly began to break and crumble, he spent more and more time at that bar.

I was too emotional he said. He knew what I had, what I woke up with every day, wishing I could be someone else. Twenty-five years we had been married. Twenty-five years he could handle whatever I threw at him. Three little boys who looked just like him, and two little girls who adored their daddy. All of them grown up now. Our youngest had just left for college. It was supposed to be the time we enjoyed with each other. We were supposed to live blissfully in the post-children years; just him and me. He had other ideas, ideas that blossomed with a college co-ed. The words just spilled from his lips so easily. “It’s over Ann.” Just that simple. The man I had given everything to. Bore him children, cleaned his house and his clothes, made his dinner every night, but most of all, gave every bit of my body and my soul. In the blink of an eye, a sparkly little twenty-two-year-old eye, that was all forgotten.

That’s why I had to kill the bastard. Standing above him, brandishing one of the set of sterling silver candle holders, candle holders that we had searched high and low for. The first real thing we bought as newlyweds. I was admiring the indention I had made in his skull. Watching the ruby red liquid pour out, making a mess on the tile floor I had just waxed the day before. This motherfucker was always leaving messes for me to clean up, but this would be the last one. At least, I would get some enjoyment watching the life leave his body. Watching his soul make its ascent into heaven. Who am I kidding? That cocksucker was going straight to hell.

“Save a place for me, you worthless fuck,” I mumbled as I kicked him in the ribs. I giggled and did it fifteen more times. Yes, before you ask, I counted the kicks out.

I stopped and stared at his body, he was still a bit warm. I wanted that asshole cold and lifeless, just like he left my heart when I found out what he was doing. Oh, he thought he was smart. He thought he was hiding his secret so very well. I knew this worthless piece of trash was sleeping with his co-ed cutie, five months before he had the balls to tell me. Well, I fixed that problem, now didn’t I? I used the toe of my black Mary-Jane pumps to kick at the indention in his head. It split open a little more, revealing some of his brain. I blanched in disgust; not because his brain was showing, oh no, more because I had gotten blood on the toe of my favorite heels. What? A girl had to look good, even if she is killing her soon to be ex-husband. That was the first rule my momma taught me, “Always look your best.”

Sam

This floor is cold. I’m surprised I can feel it though. I know where I am, I know what happened. I know I’m dead and I know the exact reason why. I can sit here and regret it all I want to, but it’s a little too late for that, now isn’t it? Christ my blood is wrecking the fucking tile. Here I lay; blood, bourbon, and broken glass all over the floor. My body turning cold and grey. I can’t say I blame Ann for doing me in. Hell, I probably would have done it to my own son if he pulled the same shit. But damn it, if Kimberly didn’t know how to give a great blow job. Every time I felt those pretty little lips wrap around my dick, all the shit and drama with Ann left my mind. Of course, I wasn’t in love with that bar maid, and I knew how much of a slut she could be, but sinking it in the pink made me feel like a man again.

I know, I know; I’m a scum bag. How could I do something like that to sweet little Ann? Let me tell you something, when I first met that girl, she was just as promiscuous as Kimberly. You could ask Old Max if he were still around.

Ann

My mind jumped to the day I found out about his girlfriend. I think her name is Kimberly, but honestly, it’s not important enough to remember. She’s just a little slut in my opinion. Breaking apart a marriage like that, disgusting.

Out of nowhere, my mind was ripped to a scene 27 years ago. It was right before I met Sam. Daddy had two business partners, James Culpepper’s father and Maxwell Calhoun. Max was quite handsome for Forty-Five, which was how old he was at the time. I found myself in his bed, many times, while his wife was out visiting her family in North Carolina. Max knew how to fuck, and that’s all I needed him for. I refused to sleep with James, in fear that would cement my future, so Max was the next best thing. His wife never found out, thank God, but she came close. So, we ended it before it got ugly. But God, was Max good to me.

“What the fuck!” I screamed out loud. I was just like that little college bitch. I found my feet moving, not knowing where I was heading, the whole time screaming a long line of obscenities. I found myself in the kitchen, grabbing the butcher knife out of the knife block, and heading back to where Sam’s body lay.

I let out what could only be described as a blood curdling scream and stabbed the fuck out of Sam’s chest.

I was so fucking angry. Mainly for two reasons. One, I was just as bad as Sam’s “Lil Cutie” when I was her age. I could have destroyed a marriage as well, being the little slut I was. Two, thinking about that time, made me remember the horrid thing I had to do following that.

About two months after Max and I ended out affair, I found out I was pregnant with his baby. Terrified, I did what I had to do, and went to my father. I knew he would keep it quiet, as Max was his business partner. He paid for me to have an abortion. Max never knew I was pregnant and it was kept quiet. Never a word spoken about it again, or at least that’s what I believed.

I don’t know if Sam ever found out. I never told him, but I couldn’t be sure if my father held his tongue. As he got older, Daddy drank more and he seemed to forget to keep his mouth shut on things. Lord only knows if that was one of the things that slipped out of him in a drunken stupor.

I looked around at the mess. There was blood, bourbon, and shattered glass all over the floor. The ice from his drink had melted and created a small lake of water, which was mixing with the blood. Jesus Christ, this asshole’s blood was going to wreck the fucking tile. It’s nothing new, Sam manages to wreck everything he fucking touches. He sure as fuck wrecked my life. Asshole.

I looked down at myself. After my stabbing session, I was covered in blood. I wasn’t strong enough to sink that knife in, but it made enough of a mess. I sank to the floor. How the fuck was I going to clean all this up by myself?

Sam

“Damn it, Ann. Stop being a lazy, nagging bitch and get this mess cleaned up!” I screamed it, but of course she didn’t hear it. I’m fucking dead! She needs to hurry up and get my decaying body out of the house, I’m going to stink up the fucking place. The tile will definitely have to be replaced, it is without a doubt stained from my blood pooling on it.

Ann

I stared at the butcher knife that was currently stuck in Sam’s chest. My mind would not stop. I couldn’t figure out where we went wrong. Everything was perfect in the beginning. I know Sam loved me. At least, I’m sure he did. I often wonder if it became too much for him to love me anymore. Was it too much work? I was very confident as a young woman, but as the years when on, I needed to be reminded I was still worth something. Did my need for reassurance push him away? Did he go to her because she had that confidence, I used to possess? He told me he loved me, even when he told me it was over. How can you still love your wife and fuck another woman? No, a little girl; in my eyes, she was a slutty little girl. As promiscuous as I was when I met Sam, I never slept with anyone else after I got with him. I couldn’t. No one’s touch would be the same.

I titled my head, slightly, still looking at the mass of body on the floor. How did we end up like this? How did I end up hating him like this? I defied my parents to marry him. Momma and Daddy wanted me to marry James Culpepper, but I was insistent that my life be different than theirs. I knew it would be with Sam, so I married him instead. The notes of “Georgia on My Mind” were playing in the background. I could hear Ray Charles crooning the words, but I wasn’t really hearing them. It was just background noise. The chaos that was a constant in my mind, made enough noise for me as it was. How was I not feeling remorse right now? How did I not feel bad, looking at my dead husband on the floor? How was I able to not even shed one tear? Had I already hardened my heart, by finding out about his “Lil’ Cutie?” Then again, I didn’t even shed a tear when I found out about her. It was as if I had no emotions. How was that even possible?

I bent down and poked at his forearm. He was beginning to turn cold. How much time had passed? How long had I been standing here, taking turns looking at him and then kicking him? I glanced at the clock on the wall. 7:45 PM it read. I still didn’t know how much time had passed. It wasn’t as if I checked the clock at the exact time, I whacked him upside the head.

I needed to get this body moved, and get the mess cleaned up soon. I looked at my freshly painted nails. Fire Engine Red, and they were going to get ruined. This is bullshit. There he goes, fucking up another thing.

“God damn it Samuel,” I yelled. “When are you going to stop fucking my life up?”

I needed to get his ass out of this house, before he began to stink it up. Thank God there was either tile or hardwood flooring leading to the back door. I could drag his ass out the back and leave him in the yard until I figured out my next move. No one would see him back there, our six-foot-high privacy fence ensured that.

“God, you’re heavy” I grunted. I had always been petite, and my upper body strength was shit honestly. Dragging his ass out of the house was going to take forever.

“This would not have happened, if you would have kept your dick in your pants, Sam!” I screamed at his corpse.

Sam

I thought death meant peace. Ann’s screams are driving me nuts; I can’t escape them, even in death. She’s always been demanding and nagging. Christ. Why am I stuck here? I’m dead; I should be in heaven or some shit, right?

Ann

I grabbed ahold of Sam’s wrists and started pulling. Feeling like I was getting nowhere, I let go of his wrists, watching them fall lifelessly back to the floor. I let out another scream, followed by more obscenities.

“Fucking fuck!” I screamed. After exhausting every curse word I could think of, I took a deep breath and decided to try again. I grabbed his wrists and put all my weight into pulling. Slowly, Sam’s body begins to move from its spot on the tile floor. I cheered myself on, feeling like I was accomplishing something with each centimeter his body shifted. Not hearing him complain about the mess, or the way I was doing this was nice; quiet even.

Sam

“God dammit Annabelle!” I keep screaming at her, but she can’t hear me. It’s a lot like being alive again. She never listened to a damn thing I said, when I was breathing. She thought she knew every damn thing there is to know. She’s leaving even more of a mess now.

“Ann,” I scream. But of course, she doesn’t hear me.

Ann

The silence was deafening. The music had long since quit playing, and all that could be heard now was the ticking of the clock; out of time with my heavy breathing. I had Sam’s body halfway through the sliding doors in the kitchen and into the backyard. I looked down at the scarlet trail, leading from his original spot on the floor, to where his body now lay at a crooked angle. I walked over the liquor cabinet in the kitchen, and pulled out the bottle of whiskey. I was going need the entire bottle to get through the rest of the night. After about ten minutes of drinking straight whiskey, I walked back over to the body. Clumsily, I grabbed his wrists and struggled, trying to pull him the rest of the way outside.

“Fuck”, I said aloud. This wasn’t working. I dropped his arms, and headed back for my whiskey bottle on the counter, stepping on Sam’s lifeless hand on the way.

Sam

Fuck, that hurt. That bitch stepped on me. What do I look like to her? A goddamned carpet; I think not.

“Listen bitch, you better learn some damn respect for the fucking dead,” I say. This whole time I had been talking and screaming, there was no answer and just pitch black all around. But not with the last demand. I got an answer.

“Fuck off, Sam.” Ann’s voice, I know it was hers. How the hell did she hear me?

Ann

I swore I heard Sam’s voice. Yelling again, about how I should learn respect for the dead, or something like that.

“Fuck off, Sam,” I said out loud. I waited a minute, doing nothing but standing in one spot; waiting to hear that voice again. There was nothing but silence. Of course. I shrugged and took a seat on one of the bar stools we had in the kitchen. I’m halfway to drunk is all. Who the hell cares? I need it. I stare at his lump of a body, and drink the rest of the whiskey. I quickly glance at the empty bottle in my hand. I shrug, set it down on the table, and make my way to the liquor cabinet again. Pulling out a bottle of vodka, I declare out loud that this will work as well. I wobble, making my way back to the bar stool. I should probably take these heels off, but damn it, I am not going to be a sloppy fashion-less drunken murderer.

Sam

Jesus Christ. Ann is sloppy drunk. She can’t even get killing me right. The longer we were married, the more and more she depended on me to help get things done. I married her because her independence attracted me. But now look at her. She cannot even do this, and it was her fucking idea.

“Get the fuck Ann!” I yell. “Get up right fucking now, and clean up this fucking mess. Jesus woman!”

“Fuck you!” I hear in response. How is she answering me? I’m dead. Maybe it is all the alcohol.

Ann

I can hear him yelling at me. Telling me to get this mess cleaned up. Fuck him. I don’t have to listen to ass anymore. He fucked this up by screwing that girl. It is all his fault.

“Fuck you!” I scream. Filled with anger, I clumsily get off the barstool. With determination, I am going to get rid of his fucking body. I am going to do this. I start towards the body, but feel myself slip on one of the many ruby puddles lying on the tile.

“Oh shit.” I feel my legs go out from underneath me. In that half second before I hit the floor, every part of my life runs through my head. I slam down on the tile, and feel my head crack open. Liquid crimson pouring out of my head, where it split. Everything goes dark. My body feels light suddenly. I can’t see a thing, there is nothing but black all around me. I try to move my arms, but I feel nothing. Then the realization hits me. Oh, fuck. I’m dead.

Sam

Well, well, well. Ain’t that a kick in the head.

THE END