Cracking Up!

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

STORM CLOUDS

Three Months

 

Baby Dolls became a refuge from home, work and life. I no longer looked forward to going to the office. The thought of walking into the hostile working environment was taking a heavy toll on my psyche. I use to love going to work. Not anymore. I knew what I would see when I turned on the monitor—red ink. There was no stopping the bleeding. The harder I worked the worse things got. Bill and Bob stopped talking to me months ago. Hell, they wouldn’t even answer a simple e-mail. I had to go through Wyder and one of his secretaries to get any information. I think what really sent me over the edge is when Bill sent me a message saying, “Due to the financial issues in Plano, we will be cutting your truck allowance in half, starting immediately.” What a dick! Sure, the company was still paying for gas and health insurance, but the deal was, $800.00 a month for the new truck I had to buy for the company. You heard it right. They didn’t supply a truck; I had to buy one on my own. No problem, until you realize I was paying $450.00 a month for full coverage on my personal work vehicle. I would now have to pay for the insurance out of my own fucking pocket.

I tried to get an answer on why the change, with no response. Well, if those sons-of-bitches think I’m going to sit here and take it in the ass, they’ve got another thing coming. I’ll show up when I have to, but there won’t be any more midnight oil burning. Oh, hell no. If they don’t like the way things are going, they can buy me out, come to Plano and finish all the jobs themselves.

How do I know this? I overheard wonder boy Wyder talking to them one day and he flat came out and said, “Joe needs to go.” And go I will, straight to Pamela and Baby Dolls. She could make all my worries melt away while she rubbed her hard body against me. Sure, it cost a dollar or two to forget my problems, but in my world, it was cheaper than seeing a shrink. For $150.00 an hour, I’m sure they could have uncovered all my pent up hatred and blamed my childhood for the current predicament. Pamela could perform the same service and never say a word.

Financially, Julie and I were doing okay. The chiropractor had her on the road to recovery. Here sales were increasing and her pain was decreasing. All those burdensome hospital and doctor bills were paid. God, that almost broke the bank! Bastards almost threw us and the kids in the poor house.

The kids? They were great. I made sure I was home and sober by 6:00pm each and every night. No reason they needed to suffer or worry about dear old dad.

Other than work, the only real concern was Julie’s mental make-up. You’d think with her “back in the saddle” and out of pain for the most part, she’d show me a little more affection. She complained about being tired or not in the mood. Fair enough. For an extra $100.00 bucks, Pamela would relieve all my tension. Again, a small price to pay for peace of mind. But still, a loving wife should show her husband a little bit of affection, shouldn’t she?

* * *

 

I couldn’t wait to attend the class. I made sure I tied up all my loose ends for the day: turned in all required paperwork for two loans, picked the kids up from school, helped them with homework, heated up some leftovers, showered and hit the door at 5:15. I didn’t want to be late for my first cervical seminar. Joe wouldn’t mind eating leftovers. He usually complained when the kids cleaned out the fridge. I left him a note telling him not to wait up since I didn’t know how long the class would last. Well, maybe that was a small white lie. I wasn’t worried about the kids being alone. I called my neighbor Cathy letting her know the kids would be alone for maybe an hour. Joe would be home by 6:00. She said for them to call her if they needed anything. Good, everything’s in place.