Can You Taste The Strychnine?

Funny story written by Vondrook

Sunday, 26 April 2009

Hi, honey. I'm glad you stopped by. I've been thinking alot about what you said the other day about wanting a divorce, and I've finally calmed myself down enough to discuss this separation. And look! I've cooked us a lovely duck; your favorite!

I took your advice, and after drinking myself into oblivion in the west wing of my mansion--sorry, our mansion for two weeks, I'm ready to "act like an adult" about the divorce you want. I was acting like a child. I didn't know how to handle the news you gave me. I'm sorry I shouted at you and threatened to kill you. Hold on, let me slice you off a nice piece of duck before I delve right into what I have to say.

So things went south with us. That happens. I don't know when exactly it happened, but it has happened all the same. I've tried pleading with you, I've tried loving you unconditionally, and have done everything I can possibly think of to be the best partner you need, but it's not enough for you. I should respect that. Oh, no duck for me, thanks. I'm going to fill up on these side dishes here.

I should also respect your wishes to take 65% of my savings as well as our homes in Nova Scotia, Nassau, and Bordeaux. I mean, sure, I owned these houses before we married, but still, you enjoyed them with me, and therefore, you should have them, right? It's only fair. How's the duck?

I am no longer hung up on the idea that marriage is supposed to be a sacred vow, and that by you cheating on me, you have broken that vow and that trust. It's not your fault you slept around. I must have driven you to it. I'm sorry I was working so hard to provide you with the things you demanded--no, sorry, requested, and that my absence directly caused you to find comfort in the arms of people on the streets, in the clubs, my lawyer. How many acts of indiscretion did you have there? 23? No, sorry, you're right, it was 24. Anyway, they were all my fault. I hope the duck is succulent.

I'll call my lawyer tomorrow, and even though you two have shared the same bed, I'm sure the three of us can sit down like adults, just like the two of us are now, and work something out. I feel so guilty about all of the pain I've caused you, and I want to give you everything I've acquired in my life, even the millions I've made before I met you; after all, you want that too, right? Oh, there's still a little duck left on your plate there. Better get it before it gets cold.

Wow, I'm glad we cleared all that up. I sure do feel better. I actually didn't think this dinner would last more than 3 minutes. At least, that's what the pharmacist told me. What? Oh, nevermind. Would you care for seconds?

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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