Chapter 18-Wicked Game-December 2013

My partner had begged to return back to me and the kids vowing she wanted to love and take care of us and that she didn't have a boyfriend while she spent 2 months away from us. She had betrayed me before but she had convinced me that she was sincere so I spent nearly everything I had to bring her back. When I met her at Manchester Airport she just walked past me and refused to catch my eye. Shit what have I done.

This is just part of this harrowing chapter--enjoy x

I froze in silent self-loathing for falling hook, line and sinker and grabbing with both eager hands, the tempting bait the evil one had so sweetly presented before my love-struck eyeballs. She had knocked me out cold with a sly underhand sucker punch. When I arrive home, I will send my bank details to Barrister Thomas Carruthers in Nigeria in reply to his email kindly offering to transfer $8,000,000 into my account. He won’t be a happy-chappy though because the con-woman extraordinaire has already scammed everything I bloody have.

I was wishing I was sat in the departure lounge with a single ticket to Timbuktu, Mogadishu or even the moon, clenched securely in my sweaty mitts. I longed to get my Mancunian arse far away as my gullible tree shuddered at the significance of the dangerous dumb blunder I had committed. Sadly, I couldn’t do a runner from the scene of her crime though because my children needed me more than ever, now that the Wicked Witch had returned. I finished kicking the shit out of myself before my chilled to the bone mind and body trailed through the crowded lonely airport after the black hearted one to the car park.

As I gave my sleeping beauty a ride back to Blackpool I was in a fury with myself for allowing the sneaky one to take me for the biggest ride of my life. I glanced at her snoozing away on the passenger seat and thought now is not the time to put her through the mangle and give her the third degree; better to let sleeping dogs LIE.

Is it feasible that her aloof polar mood was down to being jet-lagged and exhausted after 12 hours of flying and a 7 hour wait in Istanbul airport? Utter bollocks! Anyone who had a heart would have greeted a missed loved one with a smile, hug and a kiss, however knackered they were. Well, this northern arctic monkey wasn’t feeling any romantic warmth. So, stop spouting mumbo jumbo, Syd, and open your bloody bewitched eyes! Once home I was out like a light.

I slept like a log but didn’t wake up in the fireplace. I was aroused from my slumber on the sofa with my partner making love to me. She was happy, friendly and full of smiles. I thought I had lost my love but she loves me yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! No wonder my mind was messed up.

Later, that evening I spotted her chatting to a man on her FFB page. I quizzed, “Who is that?”

“Just a friend,” she innocently smiled.

For some reason, I had a gut reaction that my dirty rat was not coming clean. Probably, the way she began to manoeuvre the screen beyond range of my curious eagle eyes. Plus, the fact, that she evaded my questioning sky blue peepers. You can’t hide your lying eyes! It did not add up. Something was not kosher.

When my Black Widow at long last crawled off dragging her drowsy eyeballs to slumber land it was zero hour for my sleepyhead to unravel the web of venomous lies she had been spinning. Do not forsake me oh my darling. At high midnight, I warped into a hush-hush secret agent man once again in readiness to do my duty and muckrake this filthy case. Time to get to the shitty bottom of yet another dirty whodunit using the undercover spyware tool on my laptop.

The moment of truth was realised before you could hiss, “You sly slimy sleazy slutty scumbag.” And this ace master sleuth was knocked senseless by the poisonous double-dealings detected. I unearthed that this Hungarian bloke and my wife had been swapping shit loads of mushy messages of love as well as arranging to meet up on umpteen occasions. There were also sickening photographs of the slushy couple attending events together!

My clandestine assignment cracking this mucky enigma had left me disembowelled; powerless and having to stomach the caustic certainty that I had beyond any stinking shadow of a doubt been comprehensively shat on. By putting one and one together I had fathomed the belly-knotting solution to this putrid whodunit and the nauseating answer was him and her! My psychedelic life immediately flashed before my shaken and stirred eyes.

I got the picture in my broken heart of hearts that she had been ‘at it’ with this bloke as visions of their sexual activities sliced up my mind. I would be pissing in the stormy wind if I challenged her eyeball to eyeball demanding answers coz she would sweetly cop-out by lying from the arse of her teeth. There was no alternative but to elicit the distasteful front-page news straight from the Hungarian horse’s gob.

I dived into the distressing burden of gathering intelligence by anxiously scrutinising each message sent back and forth between the darling love vultures. Were they impatiently circling above, flying in wait for me to collapse and pop my Lancashire clogs? That morbid vision sent spooky shivers down my spine.

Sending him a message from her FFB page was a non-starter coz my ‘up to no good’ missus would spot it in the morning and forewarn the hungry for love n lust geezer to keep his goulash gob shut and say nowt. If I forwarded one from my fb page he would probably not respond and alert his wicked partner in crime. Persuading the Hungarian to yakkety-yak and make a clean breast of things by ratting on his fellow rodent was going to be far easier said than done.

I painstakingly hunted for the tell-tale clue that would reveal the blueprint for my rattrap. Eureka! At long last I dug up his mobile number from the painful piles of syrupy texts to my two-timing hurtful arsehole of a wife. My one and only shot at accomplishing a bitter sweet victory would be to make an exceedingly awkward phone call. I would have to be on tip top form to trap him into revealing the naked truth to expose the double-crossing Wicked Witch. I am up for it though because risky business is part and parcel of being a secret agent man.

I wasn’t on the warpath with him because he didn’t know me from Adam. On the other raging hand, if it would have been one of my so called close pals who had been yapping with forked tongue while shagging my missus behind my stabbed back I would have lost it and turned murderously berserk. The smug comfortably sitting bullshitting bastard would not be sitting pretty very soon coz just one look at my manic Manc psychotic grin would have had him smiling on the other side of his two-faced mush.

Firstly, an impromptu war-dance wailing wig wam bam around the coffee table at 12 Blackpool Road as my war-cries of whoop whoop, whoop ricocheted off the 4 walls. Then, flying back and arrowing in on the running bare-faced liar. He would tremble on wounded knee begging for mercy upon meeting a furious warpainted apache warrior in the shadows of the tropical night. Followed by a scream of, “Geronimo” as bang, bang Psycho’s silver tomahawk came down upon his head before scalping the deceitful twat alive. Then carrying the gruesome memento home to use as a macabre litter tray for my brother’s black cats. Once a shithead always a shithead.

Well, get off your horse and drink your plant based milk so you too can become a compassionate vegan like me!

So, fortunately for this Hungarian Józef Bloggs there were no bloodthirsty savage images of vengeance drumming in my deranged lawless skull. I just pictured him as a run of the mill bloke who took the opportunity to ‘get his end away’ when it was offered to him on a platter by the dishy Wicked Witch.

The maniacal blind rage that was running amok in my bloody brain was aimed and focused on the treacherous target who I could see smiling innocently in the cross hairs of my make-believe sniper gun. It appears the cheating fallen angel has betrayed me yet again. Jesus Christ! This morning’s passionate encounter on the sofa was nothing but a sloppy Judas kiss.

Back to risky business. I elected to call him at 4 am which would be 11 am in Laos. That would grant me just 4 short hours to meticulously plot my strategy. The game plan had to be engineered to perfection and my cunning approach, flawless. It was imperative that I kept my turbulent emotions under control and pinpointed my concentration undivided on the business of securing the crucial confession. I had to be calm and friendly, catching him off guard by giving the impression that my missus had blurted out all the sordid details by blowing the whistle already, to have even a sliver of a chance of success.

At 4am I hit the road and apprehensively tramped off beneath the bitter black wintery sky grabbing deep breaths of icy air as I plucked up the courage to trigger this bone-chilling call. Am I ready and willing to face up to and withstand the insufferable truth? My blood ran cold as I stood still like a solitary ice carving in a desolate open space as my frozen soul dialled the secret number.

To the best of my memory the conversation went as follows;

Hungarian bloke = HB

Psycho Syd = PS

HB - Hello, who is this?

PS - Hi, we have met a few times in the Samlo Pub and my name is Syd.

HB - Hi, what can I do for you?

PS - Do you know ****?

HB – Yes.

PS - Well this is difficult for me to say but I need to hear your side of the story so I can make my decision on what to do next. I am ****’s husband and she has just returned to the UK and informed me that she has been having an affair with you. Obviously distressing for me but I must deal with it. Can you help me? On top of this I have stage 4 cancer and a prognosis of just 12 months to live so would be grateful if we can finish this painful saga because stress is the last thing I need.

HB - I am really sorry about your illness and honestly didn’t know she had a husband. She informed me she was going to see her child who was living there. We met for dinner a few times.

PS - Thank you for your honesty and **** has shown me all the messages that you sent to each other, probably to clear her guilt. If you would just answer one more difficult question I would be grateful and sort out my problems here. Did you sleep with ****.

HB - Yes, I did. I am so sorry, I really didn’t know. It was just a fling; nothing serious. I had no intention of forming a long-term relationship because I already have a girlfriend. I apologise once more and hope you manage to sort things out.

PS - Thank you for being so truthful. Take care and goodbye.

HB – Goodbye.

My dying body stood still in the dead of night and silently cried. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. I try to focus but everything is twisted. Flying the Wicked Witch back in the expectation that she would be a candy-coated sugar plum fairy magically healing my broken tick-tocker and damaged body was a catastrophic cockeyed blunder. It felt like a right kick to the teeth.

She had returned as an acid smeared, tart crab apple goblin bent on tossing me off into the pitch-black dungeon of terror and torture with just a flick of her wrist. Goblins are reputed to be outright evil and greedy, especially for gold and jewellery. Yep, that’s my girl down to a tee! Her fiendish objective was surely to exterminate me and smirk in glee without even a droplet of guilt or a few warm salty tears of empathy as I slowly snuffed it.

“Exterminate, exterminate!” Good Lord, my missus is a blinking Dalek. Chop-chop Doctor Who, shake your timelord leg and get Uranus here pronto. I desperately need to sit my God-given bum in your TARDIS and do the time warp to another galaxy far, far away from this evil Venus in furs.

If she was having such a ball or two of a time in Vientiane, hell bent on revelling in her newfound freedom, why in heaven’s name did she sham 69 me by begging to be reunited and lie side by side with her sick husband? Lie being the operative word!

I was mortified with the realisation that I had been soft-soaped by the dirty brainwashing scrubber. I had been taken to the cleaners as my bank account was spotless of cash! The way she had sparkled as a squeaky clean loyal partner as she polished off the money I transferred weekly, left me feeling sterile. As she was gobbling up my last bit of cash she was also noshing on the food supplied by some bloke who was only interested in ‘a bit on the side’ while his loved one was out of sight out of mind. My ailing body and my finances were both down to bare bones. I had cracked the dirty puzzle but was sickened with the filthy muck she had attempted to sweep under the seemingly speckless carpet.

I was filled with self-loathing for being so dumb and dumber while at the same time ablaze with a burning rage at my heartless unfaithful spouse. I fumed home in a fiery fury ready for a hot-headed pow-wow with my two-faced squaw. I hope and pray she doesn’t get an early warning by spotting the smoke signals blasting out of my ears.

Upon setting foot inside my imaginary tepee, I was thunderstruck as I caught sight of the callus cow blissfully caterwauling, “Hey, yay, ha, ha, hey, yay, ha, ha,” as she circled the coffee table. I put on a brave face as I roared, “How!” which put an immediate stop to her jolly little jig. “How, how dare you,” I hollered. I stiffened with rage as I bent her over the said coffee table and whipped out my totem pole and gave her a proper little big horn which made her hair stand on end like a startled Mohican. After the punishment came to an end, I demanded, “Who is the big chief?”

“You are,” she meekly replied.

“Another feather in my headband,” I proudly smirked with satisfaction.

Of course, I just made that up. So, please forgive me for yet another psychedelic journey to the centre of my screwed-up mind. Regressing back and re-experiencing such a distressing stage of my life once more is emotionally exhausting. I delve deep into buried films, photographs and notes from that dreadful time which is like picking a raw nerve. Therefore, when my feelings are galloping unmanageably wild and my tormenting recollections start to cut just a bit too deep then I grant my sensitive soul a much-needed breather. It flees the agonising reality by creating a fictional madcap paragraph. All apologies. Hope you understand.

The enraged apache Indian gently faded to be substituted by the bona fide me. Nosferatu, that is. I glowered at the ceiling in a floored daze, stupefied by the words uttered by our man in Vientiane. In this otherworldly trancelike dimension, I contemplated what nightmare the next episode of this eternal tragic saga would hurl at me.

I silently crept upstairs on tippy-toes and quietly roused my wife. I whispered, “Sorry for waking you but you must come downstairs now because I have something very important to tell you.”

She rubbed her snoozy eyes and followed me downstairs and sat on the armchair facing my sofa. For just a moment two pairs of confused eyeballs stared deeply into each other. You could have heard a pinhead drop. “Did you have a boyfriend while you were in Laos?” I softly quizzed.

“No, I didn’t” she innocently responded.

I continued with my friendly talk, “What about that Hungarian man that you were chatting to?”

“Only a friend, I have already told you,” she sincerely replied.

She must have had an inkling that something was amiss because she would have hit the flaming roof after being shaken from her beauty sleep at such an unearthly hour to be interrogated for something she hadn’t done. And rightly so.

Time for Enola Gay to drop the humongous bombshell. I glared icily into her darting eyes before exploding the earthshattering news. I spat, “You dirty fucking liar. I have just telephoned him and he has apologised to me for sleeping with you because you never told him you were married. He just said it was for sex because he already has a girlfriend. Why the hell have you done this to me?”

She froze like a rabbit caught in the beam of a car’s headlights at the midnight hour. The shock and utter disbelief on her astonished face was startling.

“Did he seem angry?” she timidly inquired. Effing Hell! Not a piss-drop of remorse or a heartfelt apology for cruelly betraying her dying husband and stealing everything he had left in the world. The inhumane selfish cow’s adulterous eyes were crawling with bitter alarm now that her sweeter than sweet image had just been shredded into tiny little pieces. She didn’t give a stinking dog shit about my shattered dreams but was just panicking about what her Hungarian lover man would be thinking, now that she has been exposed as a filthy deceitful two-timing cunt.

“Was he the person who drove you to the airport in Udorn Thani,” I raged.

“Yes,” she admitted.

The backstabbing lying bastard! I glared at her and thought, “Don’t you know, don’t you know, that true friends stab you in the front!”

It was all just a vile pack of sodding lies and I was the joker coz the joke was on me. I wasn’t giggling though; I was crying my northern monkey heart out. I agonisingly visualised the weepy pair kissing and hugging as they tearfully cried goodbye. At that very same time, I was jumping for joy in Shangri-La because I would soon be reunited with my beautiful faithful angel. I masochistically recollected when she lovingly vowed, “I only have you and need to be with you and take good care of you.” My distraught soul howled in hysterical lunacy as my ripped heart dripped bright globs of shiny, shiny scarlet misery.

“Why did you come back here then?” I snarled.

“I wanted to go to study beauty therapy in college.” She unemotionally justified as her empty eyes just passed me by.

I was abruptly walloped by a gargantuan full-force thwack in my distraught Mancunian mush with a ten-ton sledgehammer as the nitty-gritty truth clouted me straight between my stunned sky-blue eyes. The acute realisation that to the evil one, I was just an unavoidable arse wipe; a troublesome necessity to be used and abused in her single-minded endeavour to sit on the throne at the top table. Upon having served my purpose I would be shat on before being discarded and unmercifully flushed down the shitter.

The piteous reality that I was terminally ill and on the brink of losing my psychedelic marbles coz of her spiteful below zero manipulating behaviour, was of no concern to her sadistic jet-black heart. In fact, it was an orgasmic bonus as her devious vindictive face exploded in rapture, simultaneously licking her sinful lips in ecstasy whilst observing her enslaved captive squirming and suffering with hands tied, as he shed blood, sweat and tears in his futile bid to unlock the heavy emotional chains she had restrained him in. Oh, bondage, up yours!

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