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I’m healthy. I got no wife and no brats. Life should be sweet. So why does everything I see fill me with bitterness? I hate what I’ve become. Folks, I’m not going to lie. I cry as I write these words. I feel so disappointed in Wendy. I loved her, you know. I’ve always been honest with her. I told her that I was bisexual. And she seemed okay with it. We moved in together and raised a daughter together. A daughter who wasn’t really mine. How life is sweet. I never thought shit like that could happen to me. I consider myself a superman, you know. I can spot sociopaths just by looking at them. I hardly ever get sick. I’m stronger and smarter than the average person. I’m a published author and an activist for men’s rights and men’s issues. I thought I could have it all. The life of adventure most men could only dream about, plus the wife and brats. No man gets to have it all. Not even if he’s a superman. Sometimes, the universe really shoves its foot up your ass, you know? Nothing for me. Here and there were people nursing a black eye, or a bloody lip, and some worse than that. Corn husks littered the ground all around, along with cobs smeared with blue and purple. The baskets had been crushed underfoot. More and more guards were arriving, along with healers and the curious from other parts of the town, to ask the inevitable questions. And the crowd of people responsible for this madness stood as a group around the town well, seemingly without the slightest clue what was going on otherwise. Order, such as it was, was restored when the Captain of the Guard arrived and demanded from a lieutenant some explanation. The lieutenant had to ask a sergeant to explain, and the sergeant demanded that a corporal explain. The corporal had in turn to defer to one of the foot guards who had witnessed the entire thing, and it wasn’t too long before I was surrounded by these men in their armor and carrying steel weapons, asking very pointed questions of me. I was oddly unable to come.
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