Rod gazed out the window, thoughtful. There has to be a way to make him pay.
Last night had been the final insult. The flirting with other guys, the smirks and cracks. And Terry had acted like there was nothing wrong – as though it were all in Rod’s mind! But Rod had heard that Terry had been cheating with not one but several guys. And from multiple sources. Just the other day, in the grocery store, Phil had been there with a friend. When he said, “Oh you must be Terry’s ex?” that had been the last straw.
Terry had never mentioned any intention of breaking up. He just kept stringing Rod along with promises.
I’ll fix him.
Rod reached for the phone. This was a mission for Stuart.
“Hi, Stuart? Rod. How’s it going? I take it you have heard about what is going on with me and Terry?”
“Yes, yes. So what’s he doing now…or should I say, who is he doing?” replied Stuart.
“Don’t know, and frankly I don’t care. I’m onto his game. But I want to start a game of my own. Could you help me out?”
They came up with a rudimentary plan. But they would need help. Rod thanked Stuart profusely, and ended the call. Then he began contacting several other acquaintances. The plan gelled. That night, Rod could hardly sleep.
A couple weeks later, Terry showed up at his latest intended’s apartment. He had scrubbed every inch of his body, spent a lot of time on his hair, and had his best cologne on. He had wanted Jerry for so long. And just last week, out of the blue, Jerry had called him up!
Terry tingled with excitement. He knocked, and heard footsteps. Funny – a bit of muted laughter. Jerry was supposed to be alone?
The door opened; Jerry said, “Hello Terry, so good to see you. Here, give me a hug,” and proceeded to hug Terry right there at the door. He was waving behind himself with one hand.
Soon. Get ready.
“Come on in. I’ve got several beers to drink, or I can make you a Martini.”
Someone in the back heard “Martini, and prepared a surprise.
“Come on over and sit. Tell me, how have you been? It is so good to see you,” said Jerry, waving at the couch to the right of the doorway. He moved over to the kitchen on the opposite side, to get their drinks.
“Thanks, Jerry. I’ve been wanting to get with you for so long now.”
At the end of the hallway, four other guys filed out of one of the two bedrooms, one by one, and silently walked into the living room. They seated themselves in chairs located around the couch. Terry gaped at them.
“What is this now. A surprise party? ” Terry’s face reddened as he looked at one, and then another of them. They stayed silent. Jerry came over to the livingroom, and handed Terry his beer.
Rod spoke up first. “Go ahead and take a chug. You might need it, two-timer.”
Terry set the beer down. “Excuse me? What the hell is going on here?”
“We want to each say a piece about you, Terry. You always promise to be monogamous, and then go right out and line up another date.”
Rod leaned forward, pointing at Terry. “You promised as much to me, and called Stuart the next day. Now all I wanted was a bit of honesty…”
Stuart clenched his hands, adding, “You told me I was the only guy you had been with!”
The others two added their pieces of resentment to the mix. When they were done, Terry was red-faced and sputtering.
He rose to leave. “Alright, you made your point. I am an asshole. Well, so are you guys for pulling this stunt. Now I’ll be going, to find someone worthwhile.”
“Wait, Terry. There is one more guy here to say something,” said Jerry.
Terry hesitated, standing, half-turned towards the door.
Max came trotting out of the bedroom, hefting a pail of muddy, dirty water. Terry spotted it in time to try and duck. But Max was quick. He heaved the bucket at Terry. The water caught Terry in the midsection, the pail hitting his crotch.
“Augh – you fucking bastards! Why? Fuck you goddamn assholes.”
Rod and the others guffawed.
“That is the point, Terry. You could not have just one. You had to screw every one of us – well, except Jerry, of course,” said Stuart.
“And thank god for that,” added Jerry. “Okay, Terry, you can leave now. Here take a few paper towels with you,” and threw a handful of them at Terry.
Terry slunk out of the apartment, tracking muddy footprints, and thoroughly humiliated. No one ever saw him out in the bars again.
– The End –
Mike S. Wilson lives with his cat Snickers, works and occasionally writes in Des Moines, Iowa. He has been writing for several years and is a member of the Iowa Poetry Association. He has published two volumes of poetry books and won an award in a poetry competition. His long-term goal is to publish several full-length novels.