She slid slowly from her bed, not wanting to disturb

the sleeping gentleman, slightly snoring and unfortunately

the most inexperienced of her pick ups, she went to the bathroom

peed and needed to get out and think why she kept bringing

the strays home.

She took her robe and cigarettes, opened the back door

from the kitchen and stepped out into the Chicago night

She pulled up a chair and dropped into her smoking chair

The chair she kept for thinking when she smoked outside.

In Chicago at this time of year, the days were almost hot, 

and the nights were brisk.  She almost needed a coat but 

sucked it up with just a robe.  She tapped out a cigarette

and patted the filter end, struck her lighter and inhaled.

Blowing out her first smoke, she wished she had a whiskey 

right now to go with it.

She scanned the back porches and she stopped on her neighbors

porch.  In the corner, she saw the lit cherry of someone else smoking

in the dark.  She heard the chair move and a man, about her age

leaned over the porch rail, cigarette in his hand and a glass of 

something dark in his others which he used to wave as he said

"Good evening, can't sleep or contemplating the young man in 

your apartment?"

She smiled, not sure to be pissed for him noticing her date or for 

being so froward as to call out what she was really out here for.

She got up and leaned over her railing.  "The latter, you stalking me?"

He smiled, "No, just saw you come home and had a gentlemen, 

a rather young gentlemen.  I had a similar experience last night, 

with a young lady of course.  I did the same thing last night, 

needed a smoke and a drink then, too.  I'm Jake"

Jake was a very good looking man, at least she thought but she had 

to turn this down.  She just got done with a young man...well, she slept 

with a young man that night...she wasn't done, but she wasn't going to...

fuck it.

"What are you drinking? I'm Gale.  What happened to your date last night"

"Its whiskey, you want one? She was just too young.  Or maybe I'm just too old to be fishing in that pond.  I just moved here from Indy, but young girls are the same all over.

I don't know what it is, they don't seem to enjoy conversation."

She smiled and nodded, "I just needed to clear my head, I'll take a 

rain check for that whiskey, though.  The young gentleman was just a pick up.

Not a very good one at that"  She paused, in haled and flicked her ash.

Jake, nodded. Knowing they both crossed that line of shifting their dating ranges.

He finished his drink and set the tumbler down and took a drag from his cigarette.

"Well, listen, if you want, I can cash that rain check tomorrow.  You interested?"

Gale, brought her cigarette to her lips, inhaled and smiled, "Sure thing, save some of that whiskey - Drinks and smokes or dinner, too?"

Jake smiled, "I've been known to do alright in the kitchen.  We can do whiskey or coffee after."

Gale put out her smoke and said,"Now you're talking, I guess I better get back to my gentleman caller.  Nice to meet you Jake" she held out her had across the railing.

He reached over and gave a her a firm handshake, which she returned.  "See you later tonight"

She smiled and walked towards the door and said, "Night"

"Night"  he said as he smiled.

Gale walked in, and smiled and said, "all right then, guess the night wasn't a complete bust"

a t f v j k g d t f c i j r d w e y g f u p d e h k x s q t e g j v m j f u t a e s w g d r h t g j l r x n g e d v f e d s c t j b e u d q w o n d e r w h o w i l l s e e t h i s y k l r s w g n b p d o g r t l t k q a v d w t h u g d r b u r c w s f e h k u x r l v u b c t j p j l i s w g r d e g h e x v f e j u l x g e n m f i d v a r e f b h g j l t d e n g q w v s x c u d d q y v s i k r b g w x f y o h l y e s v x c r g p q r s d e k i g n t c z t h l u c d f s q e n w e h v r j i l t x f

It was foretold

We'd grow old,

Yet this household

Quickly grows cold.

Lo and behold,

Our paths unfold

Testing the threshold

Seeing who'll fold first...

I guess it was senseless

To cherish, caress you

To address our problems,

Express my concerns,

Assess our massive mess.

You felt distress?

What about faithfulness?

Why'd you undress

With him...?

Unless this game's success

Craves my distress?

But I digress.

Yes it's true, were finished.

You and I grew apart.

My view seems you knew

This end's overdue.

So goodbye.

Through it all,

Undue anger maybe

Blew some proportions.

True it's past due

To make do however things ensue.

That's your cue to leave.

Few words would imbue

The hell you put me through.

But this breakthrough is long overdue.

A chance to show my debut...

Of life anew.

So thank you.

And also screw you

     “The difference is, I lie for a reason.”

     Ali’s words were clear and concise, cutting through the lunch hour chatter of the restaurant like a stainless steel blade.

     Robert looked into her face, void of emotion. Her green eyes used to sparkle when she smiled at him. But now, he studied her as if she was some unknown exotic species discovered for the first time.

     She continued to stare him down, silent and unwavering.

     “What are you talking about? Lies? What lies?”

     Ali’s behavior over the past couple of weeks had been erratic at best. Pleasant conversations took sudden detours into dark places, ending in soliloquies of a brooding nature. Hours later, her jovial attitude made the earlier encounter seem like a fleeting nightmare one couldn’t quite remember upon waking. Robert was aware that hormonal shifts could be more pronounced as women aged, but this was bordering on bipolar.

     “Your entire life is built on lies,” she snapped. “I thought it was a harmless game at first, watching you manipulate others by telling them what they want to hear: your friends, your colleagues, your employees. You lie like you breathe: effortlessly.”

     “Why are you—“

     “Let me finish,” she interrupted. Another pause. “I have been with you for three years. I had so much hope for the future. I fed off your passion; it was a drug to me. But now I see you for who you really are: A con artist, preying on everyone who crosses his path to get what he wants. Including me."

     Every sentence, every word was cold and robotic. The lack of emotion was more disturbing to Robert than the words themselves. He had a thick skin--he had to, given the nature of his business. But dealing with this shell of a person whom he knew intimately was something otherworldly.

     Ali sat perfectly still, unblinking, waiting for Robert to respond. His confusion quickly turned to annoyance as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

     “Look, Ali, I don’t know what’s got your panties in a wad. But I’m tired of your irrational accusations.” Robert pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet.     “This conversation is over.”

     Ali reached into her purse and produced a candy bar-sized item in a pink and white metallic wrapper.

     “Perhaps I wasn’t being clear.” She slid the item across the table, glaring at him the entire time.

     Robert reached down, picked it up and pulled back the already opened wrapper to see what was inside.

     “I wasn’t implying that I’m perfect and you’re not. What I’m saying is, you lie casually. It’s your way of life. I, on the other hand, lie...but for different reasons. Big reasons. Like the one you’re holding in your hand.”

     Ali smirked, showing the first sign of human emotion as the gravity of the situation was realized in Robert’s expression.

     “I lie to Tom all the time,” Ali said. “I tell my husband it’s okay that he’s unemployed, and that I understand he’s looking really hard for a job. I also lie and say it doesn’t bother me that he has a low sperm count, and that we can’t have children. I smile and pretend that it’s all okay, because, what choice do I have?”

     Robert stood like a statue now, white as alabaster.

     “I lie and tell Tom, ‘It’s a miracle! We are finally going to have a child together!’ Well, we are going to have a child together. It’s just not his.”

     Ali slowly stood up, both fists on the table supporting her weight as she leaned into Robert.

     “You have used people your whole life to get what you want. Now it’s my turn to get what I want: The child I could never have, the family I’ve always dreamed of...with a promotion comfortable enough to support the three of us. I’m sure that can be arranged. Right, Senator?”

I used to be Lucifer, but now I'm Lux. The same thing. After all, I'm androgynous. But that doesn't tell the whole story: I am trinus. A threesome. I went to Dr. Mengele and he confirmed it. 

I am with demon.

Pol Pot puts his hand on my belly. "When's the due date?" he asks.

"There are no dates here, silly man," I reply. "But I carry my little evil baby, and it's a good thing."

"Don't be so sure," Adolf chimes in.

"Which? Evil baby or good thing."

"Both," he answers, then adds, "you think you can mold 'em and shape 'em, influence how they turn out, but the joke's on you." 

"That's right," Idi Amin chuckles. Bonnie and Clyde wave from afar. I wave back. I like the attention.

Jeffrey Dahmer looks at my baby bump. "You gonna eat that?" he asks. I am offended, so I hit the trap door which sends him tumbling to the ninth circle. Maybe his roommate will try to kill him again. Vlad the Impaler stops in front of me and grins.

"Two for the price of one," he says. "Why didn't I think of this?" I smite him. Death of the already dead--what is called oblivion.

"It's a frickin' miracle, that's what it is," says Jim Jones bombastically, holding a Bible that has only blank pages. 

"Right," agrees Robespierre. 

"A miracle," I muse to myself. "Can there be such a thing here?" 

"Nixon's not here," says Qusay...and Uday finishes, "that's a miracle!" I am conflicted. I was only partially understanding when I said trinus. Motherhood is a whole other level. 

"You're probably all wondering why I called you all here," I announce to the complete census, a swath of races, times, and characters.

"I'm wondering why I'm here at all," Mao answers from the back. Ferdinand shushes him while Isabella glares. 

"What's up?" shouts Atta. 

"Yea," adds Kaczynski. "Yea," adds Kim Jung-il. And, likewise, from J. Edgar, Benito, Ivan, and Attila.

"What's the buzz? Tell us what's a'happenin'," Judas demands.

"I have changed. The way I am and the way I look at things. A child is borne."

"Not yet," says Fidel.

"Borne, not born," chides the Shah.

"Huh?" Fidel is confused.

"You're gonna let horns pass through your birth canal?" asks Jack the R.

"Oh," groans Lizzie, "better go C-section."

"Motherhood. Here!" I shout to everyone triumphantly.

"And that means what to us?" asks Muammar. "By the way, al-Assad here yet?"

"Means what? To you? What it means is that I've changed. My thinking's changed." I look through the fourth wall. "Hell is hereby canceled. No more Hell. Go. Find yourself someplace else." There's a hush. Henry releases a nervous laugh.

"Well, that's not fair," finally yells Nero, "I've been here for thousands of years--Bin Laden, here, only a few years, and now you say it's cancelled?"

"There are no dates here, silly man," says Pol Pot obsequiously for my benefit.

"I'm with Nero," hollers Stalin. "Not fair." A shoe flies at me from the crowd. It misses.

"Imelda," I warn her severely, "you face a mother's wrath--worse than the wrath of God, I assure you." The other shoe flies over my shoulder. I respond: you won't be seeing her anymore, that's for sure.

"Let her speak," demands Susan Atkins. "I wanna hear about Hell being canceled."

"Yea," says McVeigh. "It all sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"

I rub my belly affectionately. 

"This," I indicate my unborn, "changes everything. I love my baby. Motherhood. Here. Look at me! I am the Mother, the Daughter, and the Holy Maternity! I am the Puerperal Trinity!" I have a certain glow about me. "I love my baby, no matter what. No matter what happens, the misdeeds, the mistakes, the pratfalls, the crimes--all is forgiven." I sweep the mute audience for affect, and say, "That's what a good parent does." 

The silence is broken. "You're not our parent," Khomeini cries.

"No," I answer, "but someone is. The advice stands. Go now. Go find a better place."

“Inoperable.”

I heard that dreaded, freeing word,

then left for the ends of the Earth.

Claire Tomlin sat with a gun pressed to her temple. Her life had been one long line of rejection upon rejection, but this latest, this latest she just couldn't handle. It was the final straw that defined her life as one big failure.

She looked again at the latest rejection letter, sitting on the desk.

"Dear Ms. Tomlin,

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider your manuscript. We read it with interest, but regret we will not be making an offer of publication.

While your story is well written, blah blah blah...

Sincerely,

Ruben King

RIF Publishing"

This was the 16th rejection letter in a month. It was clear her story wasn't going to be the best-seller that she pictured it. It was clear she wasn't going to be the author she dreamed of. It was clear her time to breathe was over.

Pressing the gun harder to her head, such that it would surely leave a dent - a dent? i'm worried about a Goddamn DENT?! - she thought back to the months and months she'd spent crafting her novella. She'd poured blood, sweat, and tears into her work, just for it to be rejected like day-old coffee.

SHE HAD NEGLECTED HER FRIENDS, Goddammit! Her poor dog had barely gotten fed, watered, and walked while she lived her life in her story. And love?! Forget about that! Her love life had gone to shit because she thought it more important to focus on her heroine Lyndora's life, instead! And what did she have to show for it? Rejection letter after rejection letter after rejection letter!

She didn't even need to fully read them, anymore. They were all the same. One of those sandwiches she learned about in school - first a compliment, then the criticism, and finally another compliment. She wanted to barf on those damn reject sandwiches.

With tears pouring down her cheeks, she mentally wrote her last lines -- And with that, Claire Tomlin pulled the trigger, ending her long life of not-good-enough, not-smart-enough, not-talented-enough.

*BANG!*

As her head fell to the desk, her eyes fell upon the letter she'd forgotten to read. It looks like an acceptance-

I sat down by the River Styx,

which was more like the River Sticks,

so full of brush and bramble,

I could just barely amble

to the edge to meet my fate,

in the form of a godly mate.

Alas, my mate was not so godly

- but he was a hottie -

for he bade me undress right there,

stripping down 'til I was bare,

to make love by the riverside,

the river by which he'd died.

Our bodies spent, we separated,

so I could return to a life I hated,

a life that was minus my love,

since he'd passed on the wings of a dove.

No! My love would not be denied,

so into the River Styx, I dived.

Now back as one are my love and I,

never again to say goodbye.