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Hit The Road, Jack!
Hit the Road, Jack! : Hit 30 Years Later (3)!

Hit the Road, Jack! : Hit 30 Years Later (3)!

- ENOUGH! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! - Christina had been married for six years. Before that, she and her husband had dated for a couple months only.

- CALM DOWN WOMAN, WHAT THE F*CK!

- SHUT UUUP! - With a cutlass in hand and smashing things towards him, Christina vented the frustration long held on her heart.

- ANOTHER ONE! AGAIN, WITH ANOTHER WHORE, WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?!

- SHIT, STOP YELLING! I’VE DONE NOTHING! YOU’RE CRAZY!

- Ha. Hahhahahaha. Hahaha.

*BOOM* *BOOM*

Christina cried while sending another glass at him.

- AM I CRAZY? AM I THE CRAZY ONE? THEN WHY THE F*CK DID YOU HAVE THESE ON YOUR PANTS?!!!

Laying on top of the table, a, now, badly mauled woman’s lingerie.

- YOU DON’T EVEN TRY TO HIDE IT ANYMORE! NO!... YOU HAVEN’T TRIED! EVER! ARE YOU TRYING TO RUB IT ON MY FACE?!

- SO WHAT IF I AM?!

Christina was speechless.

- Tell you what, I ask, she blows me. That’s all, okay?! You don’t want to do it, fine, she will. And she will let me do whatever the f*ck I want!

He always had some desires she didn’t want to comply with.

- And you know what? She asked for me to do it, so I did it. I would’ve taken a photo if I could!

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- YOU! How… how could you…

Understanding slowly made its way inside Christina’s brain. It wasn’t that he had a slip and forgot his lover’s lingerie on his pockets. It’s that she wanted for her to see them. She was getting turned on with that!

Christina looked at the table, dazzled. She couldn’t say a thing anymore. As for her husband, he realized something was wrong, that he had gone overboard, but couldn’t muster the courage to admit his wrongdoings. Instead…

- It’s all your fault! You frigid b*tch!

The anger on Christina’s heart subsided. Again, that cold, burning feeling lightly went down her throat, being stored somewhere inside her.

- I’m going out.

She walked resolute steps and smashed the poor door against the frame on her way out.

***

Downtown. 2 a.m.

- More, please.

Christina had a cup of liquor in her hands.

- Say, why is a fine girl like you drinking scotch of all things? Could I pay for a more suitable drink for someone like you?

“Another one”. It was the third guy trying to hit on her this night. At first she had entertained the idea of getting it back on her husband. Take a random guy and do it with him. She might even carry a little bit of him back home, just to see how her trash of a husband would react to that.

- Not interested.

The man was your typical Neo-Squeamer - Long hair, even longer neckbeard, a fat and greasy face and a fedora on his head. One of the reasons Christina hated living so close to downtown - the “Squeam Memorial and Pride Foundation” was just a few kilometers away.

- M’llady. - The man touched the tip of his hat - Think again, right? I can see you’re lonely, I can be a nice company for you this night!

One had to be warry of Neo-Squeamers. Their habit of seeing themselves as always right was awful, and the way their fragile pride was built made it so extreme reactions would come from small offenses.

Christina had expended a good two hours on the first one who had come to try and hit on her, and another thirty minutes on the second.

It was unreasonable. It was foolish. But she just couldn’t take it anymore.

- M’llady your sister, lardtard! Get out !

- YOU DAMN B*TCH, WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!

- LARDTARD! A BIG PIECE OF R*T*RD*D LARD, THAT’S WHAT I CALLED YOU!

The water had been spilled. Christina knew it. Still, it didn’t matter. She was pissed. She was out of her mind. She was almost letting it all go.

The neckbeard guy next to her couldn’t but tremble in rage. They were in a public space, after all.

- I will get you! B*tch!

He turned and left.

- Another one, please. Make it double.

- You shouldn’t have done that, miss. - A rather greasy-looking bartended said to her.

- No shit. - She downed another dose.