Fiction: Just to Get By

By Joe S. Thomas

He walks into the room. He’s fucking angry. He’s always angry. He’s angry at the way his life has turned out. His wife is a fat pig who sits around, constantly eats, doesn’t work and bitches at him for everything he does but she can’t understand the reason he never wants to take her anywhere. Just fucking amazing, he thought. Goddamn job gives just enough to trap a man and keep him there. Can’t even fucking eat some days. Thank god almighty for his little green box. The only thing that he can think of during the day for comfort when it gets so bad he starts thinking of ending things. Yes, that special green box that holds all he needs and honestly cares for. He keeps it hidden well. If someone were to find it they would surely steal its contents. They would either take the contents for themselves or throw them away. Either situation would be fucking devastating. That thought made pain shoot up his spine and down his extremities. 

He sits across from her fat ass and listens to her mouth for a few minutes. It was a few minutes longer than he needed or wanted to but what the fuck could he do… Looking at her pushed him so far away now. He coudn’t believe this was the same human being he had once loved and was actually fucking dumb enough  to marry. Oh god, thank you green box he thought. He got up in the middle of one of her stupid fucking sentences that he was paying absolutely no attention to and began pacing the floor. His stomach grumbled and sweat was popping up on his brow. He noticed sweat forming underneath his armpits. He couldn’t stop pacing. He wanted to wait as long as he could. He just didn’t think he could hold off much longer. He wrung his hands, paced and wiped his face with the forearm of his shirt sleeve. Green box. Goddam, green box… Fuck, I can’t hold out much longer he thought. She continued speaking, he kept pacing, sweating and thinking of his green box. All I need, all I need he said to himself. I wish she would get her fat ass to bed, he thought. Green box… green box… green fucking box. Motherfuck!  Green box…  

He went to the bathroom and splashed some cool water from the sink onto his face. He looked up at the mirror. He hated what he saw. He saw a fucking ugly, weak-ass coward. Too damn scared to take a chance and do something you want to do aren’t ya fuckin’ pussy, he whispered to his reflection less than an inch from the mirror. His teeth clenched so tightly he thought he felt one crack. He spit a gob  into the sink. Blood. Goddamnit! he yelled. He told himself he deserved the pain and out of spite bit down even harder. He felt a jaw tooth break into shards. He swallowed.  He was now pacing in the small bathroom. Two steps this way, turn, two steps back. Continue. Green box. Green box. Fucking green box goddamnit. He punched the baby shit yellow tile that surrounded the small bathroom. He smeared blood everywhere he could until his knuckles ceased to bleed. He was enjoying the burn of that friction when he heard her fat ass shut the bedroom door. Fucking finally he thought. He felt just an ounce of tension easing up. Just a bit. It was never far from being right back though. He knew that. Green box, green box. His stomach churned again. He made himself enjoy the grinding pain. And he did enjoy it more and more everyday. Nothing, I mean nothing could touch him as long as he had his green box. Yes, green box.

He heard her disgusting ass crying and couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled the door open with such force the  door knob stuck into the wall that it opened to. Goddamn, I wish she would shut the fuck up. He vomited some onto his shirt thinking of the contents of his green box, cursing himself for waiting so long. That stupid bitch ruins everything, he thought. He finally made it to his office and walk over to the air conditioning vent that was on the floor. He was shaking. He hovered above his precious green box hiding hole. Oh fuck, green box, motherfuck… I need you… Goddamn I need you! He cried aloud, grabbing for the box. All of his senses were heightened. Heart, stomach, brain, hands, feet all felt different sensations of ultimate reward when he held his precious green box. He’d decided long ago to live for its contents and nothing fucking more. He began his ritual…  As most will tell you, if they’re honest, the ritual is almost as important as the contents… Goddamn! Green box… grrmpphhh… More vomit. Oh… green box… green motherfuckin’ boxurmmppppphhffff…  Even more.

Trembling, he pulled the lid from the green box and lifted the rubber banded strands of hair he’d kept from his daughter’s head before they placed her in the coffin.

Joe S. Thomas is a punk rock musician as well as a writer.  He records under the name Sonic Haints.  While not rocking and rolling, Joe spends his time in the southern United States between Georgia and Tennessee.  Look hard, you may find a few of his published short stories.  Joe hopes to have his first collection of short stories published in the very near future.  Keep your eyes peeled!