The last preparations were finalizing for what was slated to be a pleasant road trip
Valdosta and back. Things were progressing nicely till conflict erupted
Bert had already packed the trunk military style. Martha insisted it be repacked.
Bert growled, "Don't mess with my mind." Two devout Christians,
Bert and Martha could go pagan in a heart beat. But insult to insult, Bert no way
could stand up to Martha. The once virgin bride was a fire-spewing dragon.
Bert ran up the stairs to the bedroom, locking with key the door behind him.
With one swift kick Martha knocked the door off the hinges. She had been
a professional wrestler. He could not handle her unless armed with a baseball bat.
Bert would've pulled the hairs from his head save he was as bald as bowling ball.
In frustration, he downed a half spent container of Valium and followed it with as much
gin he could swallow before Martha bounded towards him and got her fingers in his mouth.
Now let's it be clear, so called attempted suicides are mainly theatrics.
Bert was confident the Valium cocktail would not kill him.
He chanced the risk in order to keep the performance real. It proved,
however, a miscalculation due to a heretofore undiagnosed heart condition.
Three days, three nights, he spent in coma in and out of theological debates.
Does God exist?
And if there's a heaven, where the hell would that heaven be centered?
And heavens to Mega Troy
should anyone be condemned to spend eternity
in a place not of your liking,
For what, for being whom?
For being Bert, a poor schlemiel?
