Picking up my 40 inch club, I went up stairs to see him. He was standing faccing the tv with his back to me. With one swing, I hit him on the back of his head sending facefirst on the floor. He was not moving so I check for a pulse. I was very happy to find he was alive. I did not want to spoil my day yet. Taking the rope, I tied his arms behind his back and tied his legs together for now. I roll him over and begin to drag his body down stairs. As I was going down the stairs, his head was hitting every step. I was laughing at this, because I knew he would be awake for what I had plan for him. I had setup a pulley with rope. Using the rope and pulley, I tie the ropes around each shoulder and armpit. Then I use the pulley to raise him up to the floor joists. Then I untie his legs and then retie them to support posts for the house. When I finish, I stood back and saw his was about 3 feet off the floor and his legs was spread far apart. I reach into my bag and took out the duct tape and. But even that was halfhearted. He had vaguely mentioned something about expecting more. I didn't have the heart to follow through on that line and find out what because somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I'd have to tell him I wasn't all that interested in him. And he wasn't the stud he thought he was. But why hurt his feelings? Why make it obvious my body, mind, and heart were constantly making the comparison to someone else? And that he wasn't up to par either? “Don't burn your house down until you've moved out of it,” used to say my mother. And I had no intention of moving... after all, he was a good guy. But then some nights that didn't weigh in his favor as much as it should have. I looked across the room and caught the reflection of the bed in the tall closet's mirrored doors just as it was: two people sharing a bed curled on opposite sides so far apart the sheet between them was pulled taught. Looked like a flipping tent. Then my mind almost as if on purpose, to underline.
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