Chapter I WILD 𝛟 PASSION
~ by W. R. Schaefer Jr.`*
I moved to a local nudist Motel where the rent was very low. Yes. I knew you'd ask. The room was covered in cockroaches I learned, after being there for a few weeks, I was one of the majority of the sexes in the building, being male. Sadly, I learned there were only two female tenants. Perhaps only one. One guy said he swears that the one, has been dead for about two days. Being that he hasn't seen her buy a soda, as she generally did whenever she was flirting with him. His name is Harold. I can't imagine any girl going after a man named Harold. It's so not sexy. For God's own sake, be a Harry! I wish I could have found some simplicity. I tried so very hard... I let myself be unnecessarily tortured for the sake of wanting to feel what it means to get your hands dirty. Filthy!... Leastway greedy. So I began with the very marrow!
Like living in this F-----g Motel. Two girls! I'm not a downlow sort of freak. Anyhow, there is a chain of order here which is supposed to be kept regardless if it either rains in hell, or if Elvis returns. That is a commonwealth tax, for we people (we, as tenants) who are in utter desperation for money. The tax was a surety kitty. The cash put aside for a surprise need. Only this tax (cash) was even more difficult to come by. In fact, the legend is, it has never been accessed by anyone who now inhabits the Roche Motel. As amusing as that name was, it fit as well. It's been said that there is only a single roach here, but that it is a quantum creature, capable of assuming occupation of two or more spaces at any given time! Oh yeah! That (needy) tenant,' "commonwealth tax" accrued, must be up in the mega-numerical heights by this time, I had only been paying in since I moved into this hell hole (a fact I'll make plain later...), and I plan to access that money for some purpose. I'll have a strategy soon enough. It's going to be for something big. A limousine to cart us around to our uptown nudist orgies? We'll see...
I paid the extra rent to intentionally disclude a roommate. A very large part of my deliberate rejection of a roommate was so I would have a private bathroom. It's more of a preference than a need. That goes for my not being subjected to the odor of another person's bowel movement. Such could be counted on like the precise movement of a watch from a Swiss timekeeper. Harold, who is... although I don't have hatred or phobia of a morbidly heavy individual, I do not wish to smell his s___ either. Therefore, as I informed him to the tone of which I feel as if, I alone was hearing myself; "I do not share my freakin' toilet!" He continued his mindless banter. "All the other bathrooms are being used. We have a common 'share a toilet' policy here in the Roche!" For a moment there I remembered why I liked that name, Roche. They were the original distribution brand of Valium. How Harold made me wish I had 10mg right now. "Harold. Leave my apartment now." He spoke back at me; "But I haven't moved my bowels yet. I think I'm going to....." I cut him off cold, "Get...OUT OF HERE!" He disappeared so fast I don't believe a foot touched the carpet. God bless him and his irritable bowel syndrome, as well.
Syphilis who was the lovely lady who ran the front desk regularly at night. (We affectionately referred to her as Phyllis, because, who was so weird that they thought that Syphilis was a good name for their daughter?) Other than act as a switchboard operator, or Secretary, I can't imagine what exactly she could find to do, is that the rooms of the Motel were entirely occupied by we nudest's. Also, because we were all along in age, a subject Which would discredit anyone who suggested, that they were being spied upon. Who in the world would feel much, if any empathy toward another of us, but we, ourselves? Who was so aware of the hell we faced every day of being just so dirt poor? Times were often so bad, that if somebody had a slice of cold cheese pizza, that would likely be all the poor soul had eaten all day. Without exaggerating in the least way, it wasn't a pleasant existence. Some nights when we all met up in the lobby to shoot the breeze, our conversations tended to turn dark, not unlike the night sky. That was so true too, but some of us weren't aware of, or that, another of us had passed away overnight, or on that specific day. No. It was no joke at all to live on the edge of desperation like we did. We thought we were blessed to have each other. We used to joke one another about how long we'd be dead before one of us took the first bite! We would laugh, occasionally... No joke. Cannibals? What a joke! Not Phyllis. She, nor her actual birth name, was any kind of joke. She was nice. A lovely woman too.
II
After a few of us died due to starvation (This was known only to us, sadly), we were more caring and giving of ourselves because some were too proud to admit that they were having a hard time staying fed. Paintball ( he got that name because at any time of the day or night you could happen upon him huffing spray paint from a bag.) was a good dude, other than his habitual misuse of spray paint. We knew he looked out for us lovingly, and we put up with his habit. Many people look at life in a million different ways. Like a crowd of folks staring at a painting, and each deriving several personal feelings and senses toward it. A very wise fool told me, it was exactly the same thing, except that it was entirely different. When someone of us checked out, it was our comic relief for getting past the loss of another"nudest's." (Most of us weren't nudist by choice, we were in fact, just too poor to afford proper clothing. If somebody wore clothes that they might actually have gathered piece by piece, from each of us all, to go to the store, they would have a list including whatever that person jotted onto the list. It was therein, important because we didn't get much. What we spent our pennies on, and a good number of us rolled our own pennies when it was time for drastic measures. Loyal to each other, as we were to a great extent. Whenever it came to buying, or changing pennies into cash, you were basically on your own. Most definitely... but it wasn't unheard of to readjust the rules when the winds in hell blew cold. We knew of those winds only too well... We weren't only poor, we were also nudest's.
What was worth the absolute most to everybody in the Motel was underclothes. Pants and tees, or if someone passed on, which was too common, and was seemingly gaining in acceleration more recently, than at any time I recalled in the past (though, I might need time to tabulate that...), the tenants who were here longest got the best cut of what was left behind by the dearly departed. Eric the reeker approached me recently with a personal problem with which I was a little flustered by at first. It made me so uncomfortable when he said he was unsettled, praying through his skylight to the Almighty! I never did like to admit defeat, though I was close to being in a submission hold at that point in our intimate chat. "Franco, I look up through to the Holy Father in Heaven watching me, as I sat and prayed in dirty skivvies, way down here, and he has infinite seeing capacity, as well you know." Eric would really need to do some work to keep God from smelling him, with his superior sniffer too. "Do you think there's any possibility that I could get some fresh underwear for my prayer time? I do have my pride." I couldn't help but think how hard he hid it sometimes...
''Yes! I know you do, Eric. One of these days I'll take you hunting with me too!" Eric looked puzzled. Then, as if what I actually meant had just touched-down on his majorly-malfunctioning thought mechanism, he was suddenly anxious, and a little ridged acting. He looked to be sulking. Yup! He got the point. Paintball was going by and I stopped him; "Hey Paintball! When Vesper died, did he leave any underwear behind? Don't misunderstand. They are for Eric the reeker. I can't stand for him to be praying out through his skylight, while clad in only shit-stained skivvies, anymore. He's becoming a pain. I figure some new skivvies for Eric is a plus for the overwhelming remainder of humankind!" "You know? I don't think there are. They go like hotcakes around the Motel. But, I agree! Some new underwear for Eric would help the pollution factor, so I'll spring for a six-pack of men's briefs and tee's. What size you think?" "HMmm... I'd guess an extra-large would do." To which Paintball replied automatically; "Good to go!"
Anna was a good girl. Well, she was one of the two women yet living, in this down on your luck: nudist' Motel. The Roach Motel in Hell, as the hapless residents referred to it. You would actually need an overview of this place. It's just a sharp turn down a street without any apparent warning for the kids. If there's a sign, it is not easily evident to be read. It's only pot-luck should you see it, or pot-bad-luck, otherwise. Dependant upon whether or not you have any children in the automobile, who are noticing everything there is to possibly see? When Anna came to the Roche, I didn't think a woman of her exquisite taste would move in here. I certainly didn't think... I mean how could I? She is beautiful, and she's been here a year and counting. I have grown quite fond of her in the time she has shared with us here. What? My name? I have a terrible name. I am embarrassed to say it, to be truthful. I am Ralphy Roche! Well yes, it is Ralph, but I prefer Ralphy. It takes the edge off. I would certainly be very pleased to be; Anna's Ralphy, by any equivalent rate thereof... A vision I would never have realized hadn't I secretlywon a massive lottery at a time in my life when I was seeking some sense of a greater truth than wealth. But not wanting to spoil a good story with a hard reality, that is to ruin a good life with money... good life? Good money? I thought I knew something about what was truly good... once. So, I have this infallible vision...
II
After a few of us died due to starvation (This was known only to us, sadly), we were more caring and giving of ourselves because some were too proud to admit that they were having a hard time staying fed. Paintball ( he got that name because at any time of the day or night you could happen upon him huffing spray paint from a bag.) was a good dude, other than his habitual misuse of spray paint. We knew he looked out for us lovingly, and we put up with his habit. Many people look at life in a million different ways. Like a crowd of folks staring at a painting, and each deriving several personal feelings and senses toward it. A very wise fool told me, it was exactly the same thing, except that it was entirely different. When someone of us checked out, it was our comic relief for getting past the loss of another"nudest's." (Most of us weren't nudist by choice, we were in fact, just too poor to afford proper clothing. If somebody wore clothes that they might actually have gathered piece by piece, from each of us all, to go to the store, they would have a list including whatever that person jotted onto the list. It was therein, important because we didn't get much. What we spent our pennies on, and a good number of us rolled our own pennies when it was time for drastic measures. Loyal to each other, as we were to a great extent. Whenever it came to buying, or changing pennies into cash, you were basically on your own. Most definitely... but it wasn't unheard of to readjust the rules when the winds in hell blew cold. We knew of those winds only too well... We weren't only poor, we were also nudest's.
What was worth the absolute most to everybody in the Motel was underclothes. Pants and tees, or if someone passed on, which was too common, and was seemingly gaining in acceleration more recently, than at any time I recalled in the past (though, I might need time to tabulate that...), the tenants who were here longest got the best cut of what was left behind by the dearly departed. Eric the reeker approached me recently with a personal problem with which I was a little flustered by at first. It made me so uncomfortable when he said he was unsettled, praying through his skylight to the Almighty! I never did like to admit defeat, though I was close to being in a submission hold at that point in our intimate chat. "Franco, I look up through to the Holy Father in Heaven watching me, as I sat and prayed in dirty skivvies, way down here, and he has infinite seeing capacity, as well you know." Eric would really need to do some work to keep God from smelling him, with his superior sniffer too. "Do you think there's any possibility that I could get some fresh underwear for my prayer time? I do have my pride." I couldn't help but think how hard he hid it sometimes...
''Yes! I know you do, Eric. One of these days I'll take you hunting with me too!" Eric looked puzzled. Then, as if what I actually meant had just touched-down on his majorly-malfunctioning thought mechanism, he was suddenly anxious, and a little ridged acting. He looked to be sulking. Yup! He got the point. Paintball was going by and I stopped him; "Hey Paintball! When Vesper died, did he leave any underwear behind? Don't misunderstand. They are for Eric the reeker. I can't stand for him to be praying out through his skylight, while clad in only shit-stained skivvies, anymore. He's becoming a pain. I figure some new skivvies for Eric is a plus for the overwhelming remainder of humankind!" "You know? I don't think there are. They go like hotcakes around the Motel. But, I agree! Some new underwear for Eric would help the pollution factor, so I'll spring for a six-pack of men's briefs and tee's. What size you think?" "HMmm... I'd guess an extra-large would do." To which Paintball replied automatically; "Good to go!"
Anna was a good girl. Well, she was one of the two women yet living, in this down on your luck: nudist' Motel. The Roach Motel in Hell, as the hapless residents referred to it. You would actually need an overview of this place. It's just a sharp turn down a street without any apparent warning for the kids. If there's a sign, it is not easily evident to be read. It's only pot-luck should you see it, or pot-bad-luck, otherwise. Dependant upon whether or not you have any children in the automobile, who are noticing everything there is to possibly see? When Anna came to the Roche, I didn't think a woman of her exquisite taste would move in here. I certainly didn't think... I mean how could I? She is beautiful, and she's been here a year and counting. I have grown quite fond of her in the time she has shared with us here. What? My name? I have a terrible name. I am embarrassed to say it, to be truthful. I am Ralphy Roche! Well yes, it is Ralph, but I prefer Ralphy. It takes the edge off. I would certainly be very pleased to be; Anna's Ralphy, by any equivalent rate thereof... A vision I would never have realized hadn't I secretly
This is the night I plan on seeing Anna's surprise as she walks through those restaurant doors. It is to be the evening of her fortieth birthday! Please, don't tell her I shared that information with you. I am the actual owner of the Roche Motel! It is, but one of several properties I own. If Anna would allow me to, I would share it all with her. So what?... I infiltrated my own Hotel by posing as an actual nudist with very good intentions. That being, to lift Anna out of this impoverished state, by surprising her with my truthful proposal of marriage, and the vision of a better life beyond this hellish existence!
III
At first. Well, let's just say I hadn't stayed around or done any such expensive repairs on the Motel Until she came to stay here. She has made a whole new man of me. I was guilty of depriving my other tenants of new (and vital) things, and utilities in working order. She has allowed me to examine my own soul, and discover the error of my ways. The Roche Motel has always been a dump. Now, I'd begun facilitating its evolution into a livable place. I've gotten rid of the bugs which weren't good for the other tenants with breathing problems. Paintball is the only one of my tenants who I suspect is still using. It's too bad because he is a good-hearted guy who needs a chance, if not a kick in the pants, to help him realize he is playing a game, hinging upon his own life and death. I personally don't believe he realizes (or cares) what he is actually doing to himself. Nor, do I believe for one moment, that he doesn't know how much we love him. Soon now, we will attempt an intervention with those of us who care too much to let his brain cells sizzle! Naah! He loves huffing paint too much to deprive him...(?) What am I? Crazy too? Truthfully, even if at the end of trying, were he to fail to stop, would I actually through him out? Probably not! But, don't tell him, because we would surely like it if he could stop it...
Ahh! Here comes lovely Anna to dine with me. This is my favorite locally owned restaurant. It isn't part of a big chain. They serve good food here and it is very good. They have a large and excellent choice of wines as well. I had been planning on bringing Anna here for some time. We were very entertained by a violinist who serenaded us, and we danced a few slow dances which made me sure Anna had read my mind. I know she felt my heart as it beat when I was close to her. Man! She may think I have a heart condition!...
It was a nice night which resulted in my indulging in a little too much wine. It necessitated my calling a backup ride with a good friend who was only too glad to do the favor. Anna held my hands firmly on the tops of her knees and looked me directly in the face during the ride back to the 'Roche'. Then I revealed my true motive for this special night out. I propositioned her in a weak and wounded way?... "What? What is this treatment like I'm a specimen on a microscope slide? What am I supposed to derive from this unusual treatment Anna? Didn't you enjoy the time we spent out? Please, Dear Anna... What gives?..." Her eyes refused to meet mine, and she would not answer...
Again, Anna reached for my hands, and yet trustingly, I went with her flow. Then out of her mouth came the words that I least expected. Oiled up and with a dose of sugar, sweetness, that I had an inkling of, if only by her not assuring me immediately... She insisted on doing the impossible. Which was to put it in such a way that it would be all right. But, it was never going to be all right between we two again. Never! This was one of the reasons I didn't spend much time at that fleabag hotel since I had actually gone and purchased it! Oh! That is; until Anna had arrived. She held such promise and 'disillusion of promise' over my own low down existence... To think, just a little while ago I was towering over ''Eric the reeker." I thought by asking Paintball to get him some new briefs to wear while praying, and look decent while addressing God, somewhere up there... through his skylight, was a quick cure for everyone and everything. Apparently, Anna was not beholden to my most intimate state of extreme generosity. Not enough to accept my proposal of marriage, and a much nicer way of life, if I may add... I was beginning to accept the fact that certain things had no varying ways.
"Ralph...(came her urging voice that made me listen, though I knew intellectually, I shouldn't have...) I'm sorry that we are branching out in different directions." By now, we were practically back at the office which was furnished with a fold-out bed that was seeming better to me than Anna's drawn out and depressing speech was, as I was getting very drowsy. "Anna, I'm going to set you aside, in a way that you may not understand right now. Later, when you have thought about this situation; you will say to yourself... or you won't, what a good thing I had done, in ceasing to pursue this matter." She had a bemused look on her beautiful face then, as I recall. Though she was mysterious in many ways, I thought I could tell what she was thinking. Was that only fantasy? Part of her allure? We reached the hotel and I was a bit crumpled, but pulled myself together for the sake of dignity. I did not want to seem wispy in her eyes, after all... Even if I felt desolate to myself at that moment. The earth would have to swallow me whole before that could happen!
I reached into my trouser pocket and extracted a key on a single link and it's ID printed on it. "Anna. It has been strangely... A peculiar night, and I am very anxious to fall asleep and forget it entirely." "Ralph. Are you horny?" "Anna. Let's not make a mockery. I just told you what I wanted. You can only serve as a hindrance to my getting to sleep." Now, Anna looked as if I had pressed exactly the wrong button, and that I was going to regret pushing it too, in a very big way. Not wishing for things to go very wrong now, I found myself backpedaling, hoping to find a common ground that we could each walk away from this thing while preserving face. "Anna. I know that you are uncomfortable knowing that my idea of what I assumed incorrectly, was where our relationship was going. It was myself who misread it. I'm a bit hurt, but I can pick myself up from the ground and get back on my horse...' Color me understanding, Dear Anna. Rest assured that I will get past this thing."
Anna stared directly into my eyes. I'll admit. It took a lot of strength for me to avoid her Molotov glare... "Forget about a horse. Let me ride you!" Alright! This woman wasn't going to release me from her hook at all! I began to wonder whether or not she had planned this while I was trying earnestly to be the best gentleman I could be. Could she just be angry because I didn't take her letting me down bad enough for her taste? No. She didn't care about what became of me before, during, or after. She was a good looker who could hide a very calloused heart well! Something told me that the reason she still hadn't settled yet was that she just wasn't through ripping hearts out of there potting yet. Wow! She was a mad cyclone, that unconscionably, uprooted trees as it passed!..."I'm going to unfold my bed and get a late morning snooze. I may sleep until tonight (and, playing an ace for immediate time's sake)... "If you are still interested tomorrow," I glanced at my device that many still referred to as a cell phone, "By that, I mean later today, we will see... if I am indeed horny when!" I was deeply confused by all of this. Could I sort it all out even in my best framing of thoughts?
IV
Authors overview:
It bought him some time, but he was wondering where the sweet lady he had fallen head over heels for had gone... Was this a clone? No. Too much YouTube. He fell asleep with her menacing presence like a dark shadow on his dreams. There was almost no way left to prove what she was attempting to do. Even a voice analysis could be reproduced artificially, by some altering of a mechanism or the sort... In any case, all this mental stress had left him weak and frayed. Frazzled. And very tired as well. Though, if he had witnessed the way he was tossing and turning in bed he would have woken up in an exhausted state of body and mind. He said about sleeping; "To hell with it now, but... I've got to get a good night's sleep tonight. I have rents to collect tomorrow, and I do want to make a minor repair at one of my apartment buildings. She should at the very least... be earning my attention!"
I thought it siphoned a tiny portion of energy from his overworked brain. "Anna Is getting on in age... It just may be that she is serious about me, but wants me on her terms." Oh, s___! Fearfully, he told himself; If think of her and she will come." And, he was talking about the same Anna, who had just driven into the parking lot in the car he helped her finance earlier in the year. Since she possessed no real job, except to occasionally answer a phone for him... Forget taking notes, regardless of the importance. Fax (when that was a thing), or accept a message (mostly hers anyhow). He had her on a nifty healthcare package as well, were one to do the math. All of the pros in one column, alongside all the cons... She wasn't representative of any other employee he had in his pool. Very suddenly, she bore a striking resemblance to that of an enemy. He had set her up, to the contentment of her heart. He now had a serious problem on his hands. What he was doing, or even could do about it remained to be seen, and heard... and spent, or even damaged beyond repair. He had to slow down his mind until it was the correct time, a fleeting sureness of time to meet her at, or on, her level. While looking directly into her eyes, and speaking succinctly to her, without any chance of misconstruing by either (if clarity on that level is even possible). As it had been planned by Ralph, he had a lot of his own, and his Dad's friends as witnesses. Now, in his opinion, her careless words and actions showed her for the gold-digger, he now believed her to be!... Or was this the terrible twist to Ralph's apparent crumbling, of his fragile generosity?... Are we all so prone as to live a lie? As for Ralph, he was a spider caught up in his own web.
Each word measured and weighed. As if she was receiving sentencing for a crime from a Judge, the full clear and concise words which could in not, the tiniest of possibilities be mistaken to infer any other meaning. Mind you, it was not the mere art of the spoken word. Ralph was speaking to her as it had to be. Before trustworthy witnesses, each one possessing an impeccable reputation and in being without uncertain terms, lightyears beyond reproach. Anna was incapable of any utterance now. anything Anna could say now would only serve to damage her 'undisputable guilt' as it were.
Ralphy was free of her tentacles now. She was certainly a beauty, by any man's measure. But for how long? His injuries set his mind on a path toward retribution. It was now his personal pain, though inflicted by this truly wretched monster whom he was entirely willing to go to the very ends of the Earth to please, had she simply agreed to marry him, and be willing to abide by his instructions regarding the occupation of the tiny cell inside his heart! Something to which she was not pursuant. He didn't wish to cause her physical injury, regardless of the pain in his heart. He romanticized a more creative and abstract form of punishment for Anna... "I hope she rots like an anchovy!" Now he was entirely given over to hate for the woman he had so adored once, very much, if not but a short while ago.
Aging is cruel and can happen almost overnight. It works overtime when you actually study its effects on someone like Anna, to whom it would result in driving insane incrementally. Ralph would celebrate every new wrinkle her face acquired as if it were a befitting occurrence. Ralph was a lucky man for having such highly thought of and reputable friends (You would need to be high to believe it!) Had Anna not been capable of being a sweet woman like she appeared one minute, the next, a psychopath. Perhaps, we would have seen them as a couple deserving of one another's love. Ralph worked with the staff at the Motel, but it was trouble being there as there were too many repairs eating up his budget for upkeep. Beyond all that, he sort of missed Anna, but accepted on a deep level it wasn't meant to be. He sold the place for a tidy sum which he put into newer and far more profitable Condos, and high-class luxury Apartments. He even bought the restaurant that he took Anna too on a fateful night when he'd arrived at his summary of opinion regarding her character. That, about her being a gold-digger certainly wasn't true. Hadn't he kept that poker face so long, she may have made an immediate attraction? There is no telling the best time for revealing your true feelings. Being that if they are true, any time is right. Both Ralph and Anna lost their minds with acuity. That is a rightful truth...
It bought him some time, but he was wondering where the sweet lady he had fallen head over heels for had gone... Was this a clone? No. Too much YouTube. He fell asleep with her menacing presence like a dark shadow on his dreams. There was almost no way left to prove what she was attempting to do. Even a voice analysis could be reproduced artificially, by some altering of a mechanism or the sort... In any case, all this mental stress had left him weak and frayed. Frazzled. And very tired as well. Though, if he had witnessed the way he was tossing and turning in bed he would have woken up in an exhausted state of body and mind. He said about sleeping; "To hell with it now, but... I've got to get a good night's sleep tonight. I have rents to collect tomorrow, and I do want to make a minor repair at one of my apartment buildings. She should at the very least... be earning my attention!"
I thought it siphoned a tiny portion of energy from his overworked brain. "Anna Is getting on in age... It just may be that she is serious about me, but wants me on her terms." Oh, s___! Fearfully, he told himself; If think of her and she will come." And, he was talking about the same Anna, who had just driven into the parking lot in the car he helped her finance earlier in the year. Since she possessed no real job, except to occasionally answer a phone for him... Forget taking notes, regardless of the importance. Fax (when that was a thing), or accept a message (mostly hers anyhow). He had her on a nifty healthcare package as well, were one to do the math. All of the pros in one column, alongside all the cons... She wasn't representative of any other employee he had in his pool. Very suddenly, she bore a striking resemblance to that of an enemy. He had set her up, to the contentment of her heart. He now had a serious problem on his hands. What he was doing, or even could do about it remained to be seen, and heard... and spent, or even damaged beyond repair. He had to slow down his mind until it was the correct time, a fleeting sureness of time to meet her at, or on, her level. While looking directly into her eyes, and speaking succinctly to her, without any chance of misconstruing by either (if clarity on that level is even possible). As it had been planned by Ralph, he had a lot of his own, and his Dad's friends as witnesses. Now, in his opinion, her careless words and actions showed her for the gold-digger, he now believed her to be!... Or was this the terrible twist to Ralph's apparent crumbling, of his fragile generosity?... Are we all so prone as to live a lie? As for Ralph, he was a spider caught up in his own web.
Each word measured and weighed. As if she was receiving sentencing for a crime from a Judge, the full clear and concise words which could in not, the tiniest of possibilities be mistaken to infer any other meaning. Mind you, it was not the mere art of the spoken word. Ralph was speaking to her as it had to be. Before trustworthy witnesses, each one possessing an impeccable reputation and in being without uncertain terms, lightyears beyond reproach. Anna was incapable of any utterance now. anything Anna could say now would only serve to damage her 'undisputable guilt' as it were.
Ralphy was free of her tentacles now. She was certainly a beauty, by any man's measure. But for how long? His injuries set his mind on a path toward retribution. It was now his personal pain, though inflicted by this truly wretched monster whom he was entirely willing to go to the very ends of the Earth to please, had she simply agreed to marry him, and be willing to abide by his instructions regarding the occupation of the tiny cell inside his heart! Something to which she was not pursuant. He didn't wish to cause her physical injury, regardless of the pain in his heart. He romanticized a more creative and abstract form of punishment for Anna... "I hope she rots like an anchovy!" Now he was entirely given over to hate for the woman he had so adored once, very much, if not but a short while ago.
Aging is cruel and can happen almost overnight. It works overtime when you actually study its effects on someone like Anna, to whom it would result in driving insane incrementally. Ralph would celebrate every new wrinkle her face acquired as if it were a befitting occurrence. Ralph was a lucky man for having such highly thought of and reputable friends (You would need to be high to believe it!) Had Anna not been capable of being a sweet woman like she appeared one minute, the next, a psychopath. Perhaps, we would have seen them as a couple deserving of one another's love. Ralph worked with the staff at the Motel, but it was trouble being there as there were too many repairs eating up his budget for upkeep. Beyond all that, he sort of missed Anna, but accepted on a deep level it wasn't meant to be. He sold the place for a tidy sum which he put into newer and far more profitable Condos, and high-class luxury Apartments. He even bought the restaurant that he took Anna too on a fateful night when he'd arrived at his summary of opinion regarding her character. That, about her being a gold-digger certainly wasn't true. Hadn't he kept that poker face so long, she may have made an immediate attraction? There is no telling the best time for revealing your true feelings. Being that if they are true, any time is right. Both Ralph and Anna lost their minds with acuity. That is a rightful truth...
`*~𝞥⇴Câť😿Ɲıpʼɲ⥞⥷© by 𝐖.ℛ.𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻`*~𝛟
+ Wild*Passion is a wisp of smoke off a rotten Anchovy. At least if you were one of these pitiful characters represented in this story. True love is but a brief whisper. I've been in love a few times, personally. Sometimes it was nice. In some instances, I felt like a dartboard, attracting pain as the darts sauntered past slowly but sharply. Love is real, but not everyone will know its kindness. Luck? Just desserts? Fickle fate? Luck of the draw? Not all of us will find an inclusion. But be open to it. Otherwise, you may not see it when it rendezvous within your gravity. If it feels right, then I guess you go for it! I'm not your coach! I'm a pumpkin! Best of luck to you though.~W. R. Schaefer Jr.`*+
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