Confessions of an Infidel

I have a confession to make. Here it goes…

My darling wife, I wish to inform you that I have always been an infidel. All throughout our married life. Well, actually all throughout your married life (because I have been married more than once, ‘Wink’). Now baby, will you please not act like you are all shocked and devastated, your face looks mighty wicked already. Yeah, now don’t kill me with that killer stare of yours like you will grab me by my neck and flung me across the room with just your hand, because you already are DEAD. LOL… It gives me immense pleasure now that you have kicked the bucket and I can finally have a life. I would have liked to say that my wife left for her heavenly abode, but baby people like you, ‘they go in hell’. Go to hell, you bitch!!! And good luck. Why good luck, you might ask? Because you are about to be deep fried in a cauldron full of hot burning oil. Isn’t that what they do to people like you in hell? Good luck with that.

Did you really think I put up with your constant nagging, for nothing? You were a fool, baby. You were a pest, my darling wife. The first time that I realized I was in an unhappy marriage with you, I started dating my secretary. Yeah, that hot and stunningly beautiful secretary of mine. Deborah! That was her sweet sugar coated name, in case you forgot. Yes, she was married. But what the heck, so was I! Who cares! She had legs to kill for! And abs to die for! And a couple of things more!!!

Now you get it, don’t you? I didn’t stay late at office for work (‘Wink again’). I didn’t go outstations on business visits. Although, sometimes I did go for business visits but it was less of business and more of pleasure (‘Winky Winky’). I just winked two times at you. At most times, it was pure pleasure darling. You remember I got late for your dad’s funeral? I was with Deborah that time, and she just wouldn’t let me go. Well, I came in late for your mother’s funeral too. Nah! You nasty women, I wasn’t with Deborah that time. Do you think I was such a bad man? I was with Betty that time. Yeah, I was badder. Betty was the one I eventually got married to. But by the time I got married to her, I had already experienced the fruits of promiscuity. Did you just call me a bastard, darling? Hell, I am! Deborah was the first, then came Annie, Michelle and Bella followed in later, and then there was the Boss’s tall daughter (taller than me) Elizabeth. Elizabeth was the most sophisticated and the most demanding of the lot (if you know what I mean ‘Winky Winky Winky’). I just winked three times at you.

But baby, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to settle down. It is the time he has to seriously consider marriage and be faithful to only one woman. At this peculiar point of time in my life, I fell in love with Betty. Oh, she is a darling. You two should have met. But you had other plans (of being DEAD). You silly woman! I feel immense pleasure (yes, I feel pleasure again!) to inform you that I have two sons with Betty. She is the one who bestowed me with the joy of having my own kids and she is the woman who has made my life better. And all of a sudden, the tallest finger of my right hand has started to itch. It wants to wake up and stand on its feet, keeping all the other fingers sleeping in a tight fist.

All this time that you nagged and banged your head at me and behaved like a smartass, I stood tall facing you and laughing at you (not on the outside, though). All this time, I was having a hearty laugh at you. Had I laughed to your face I would have been long dead. You would have murdered me with your weight. That’s right! Didn’t you realize you were fat? ‘Curvy’ is what you called yourself. My finger itching again. Curvy! My foot! A thump of your leg on the ground could have dug a grave! So I chose to hold on to dear life with both my hands and instead, I laughed within. And I have had the ultimate laugh, you dumb woman!!!

Did you just call me an asshole? Indeed. But baby, don’t you think you were much better at being an asshole? Every time you pointed your crooked index finger at me, I wanted to chop it off with a razor sharp blade and chew on it (dipped in loads of tomato sauce and spiced with oregano). You were the most dominating women I ever met. To hell with domination and down with ‘Imperialism’. Middle finger salute to your crooked index finger, you already dead woman!!!

My darling wife, as the black coffin for your funeral is being prepared and you are being dressed in all black clothes, I cannot help but think of your black hair that were so smooth and curly. Probably the best hair I have ever seen. I want to tell you that I was really fond of them. Every time you banged your head at me, they swayed in all directions as if you had been possessed by an evil spirit (that just wouldn’t let go off of you). And at times when you kept your head still, they looked like the nest of a cuckoo bird. Yes, you heard it right! You were that beautiful, darling.

Now I will take your leave and leave you this letter of confession in your coffin. So I can make you jealous and burn you red with envy even before you descend to hell and be burnt there. That is all for now and this is all I could think of to write at such a short notice (you died a sudden death, I could have done with some more time). In case I remember something later, I shall dig your grave and lift your coffin out, open it and stuff another piece of paper in your hideous mouth. You wicked wicked woman!!!

Till we meet again, Sayonara.