DESPERATE

8

Randall was ecstatic. He had finally done it. He peeled off his blood-stained clothes and threw on his favorite funky coat. He crammed the evidence into a small plastic bag and dashed outside. The neighbors were still gossiping about the tragic death of Mrs. Veronica. They didn't spare a glance at the small man who hopped to the pond with a spring in his step.

He undressed and jumped into the pond. He felt like celebrating. He took out the bloody clothes and scrubbed them. The blood didn't come off. He growled and ripped the wet clothes into shreds. He glanced around nervously, looking for a place to hide the bag.

On his way back from the pond, Randall noticed a car with a couple inside. The windows were fogged up and the back seat door was ajar. He approached the vehicle and peeked inside. The couple had fallen asleep and were partially nude. Randall saw a red, dirty thong near the girl's feet. He smirked as he slid the wet plastic bag under the passenger’s seat.
"I'll let them throw it away for me. Yep, their fingerprints will be all over it." He snatched the filthy underwear and stuffed it in his pocket.

Everyone had turned in for the night. The neighborhood was too quiet. It made him feel uncomfortable. He sneaked back into the house and went into the basement. A horrible stench came from the laundry basket. Jillian hadn't done the laundry for weeks. He dug through it until he found Tom's pants. He savored the feeling of contentment as he stuffed the dirty red thong into the pants pocket. He couldn't wait to see Jillian's reaction when she found it.

Jillian woke up with a throbbing migraine and a nasty cold. She was glad her boss was out of town. She didn't have to call in sick. She rolled over and kissed her sleeping hubby on the forehead. She dragged herself out of bed. The kids were still in their rooms. Jillian knocked on Dionah's door, “I need your help with the laundry.”

A disheveled Dionah came out of her room, groaning, “Why did you wake me up so early? There’s no school today. Can’t you do it yourself? I hate going into that creepy basement.”

“Don't tell me you believe Jordan and Gail's boogeyman story. If I wasn't ill, I wouldn't wake you up." Jillian said. 

“It really sucks being the oldest sibling. I have to do everything. Jordan and Gail get to play all day.” Dionah grumbled as she followed her mother to the basement. 

They opened the basement door, Jillian called out playfully, “Is anybody here? We're coming down.”

“Argh, stop it mom! You're spooking me out. Let's get this over with. I hate this basement. It's dark and stinky.” Dionah complained and nervously looked around. She hoped no one would pop out and scare the crap out of them.

“I want you to separate the colored and white clothes in different baskets.” Jillian instructed. 

Dionah wasn't listening to her mother, goosebumps rose on her skin. “I have an eerie feeling, we're not alone.” 

“Don't be ridiculous. You should quit watching horror movies. It's messing with your mind.” Jillian scoffed, as she searched through the pockets.  

Jillian felt a lump in one of Tom's pants pockets. She thought it was a handkerchief and took it out. It was a red, smelly thong. She was horrified. It wasn't hers. She would never wear something so inappropriate.
Dionah looked at the nasty woman's underwear in her mother's hand and said, "That is not mine!"

Jillian's face turned bright red, and she said in a harsh tone, "Do the laundry. Your father has some explaining to do."

Dionah knew her parents were going to have another big fight, again.

After his shower, Tom combed his wet hair in front of the mirror when Jillian barged into the bathroom, mad as hell. She threw the filthy red thong in his face.

Enraged, Jillian yelled at the top of her lungs, "WE'VE BEEN MARRIED FOR MORE THAN 20 YEARS! HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON ME. DON'T I SATISFY YOU? YOU'D RATHER GO OUT THERE AND SCREW A WHORE! YOU BETTER TELL ME THAT BITCH'S NAME RIGHT NOW!”

"Jillian, what's wrong with you?" Tom asked, glancing both at his irate wife and at the red thong in the sink. Why did you fling that stinky thing in my face?

Jillian bit her bottom lip and hollered, “NOW YOU'RE PLAYING MR. INNOCENT. TELL ME HER NAME! IS IT SOMEONE AT WORK, A NEIGHBOR, OR SOMEONE I KNOW. I WANT TRUTH NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH!”

Tom's heart sank to his throat, and he inhaled deeply. "I have no idea what you're talking about. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"I want you to explain to me how that woman's underwear got into your pants pocket," Jillian gently replied.

"I suppose someone put it in there," Tom shrugged.

Infuriated, Jillian shouted, “Duh, I know that. It's not if the underwear just fell into your pocket on its own. Whom does it belong to?”

“Dammit, how am I supposed to know? I didn't put it there.” Tom shouted back.

"It's your whore. She purposefully placed it there so I would notice it. You're screwing someone at work. That's why you always come home late," Jillian cried out.

"Shut up! I've had enough of you. Stay away from me. Don't make me lose my shit and give you a black eye," Tom said, clenching his fist. Jillian ran out of the bathroom in tears.

Randall saw everything from behind the wall. He gave a quiet round of applause, saying, "I'll finally have the ladies to myself.”