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You Never Listen to Me
By Sunnie Day
Rated "G" by the Author.
Last
edited: Friday, August 03, 2012
Posted: Friday, August 03, 2012
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A husband is held captive in his easy chair by his rambling wife. A battle has been brewing and there is no way out.
Her mind is running in a thousand places, as she jumps over deep crevices, crawls in the mud, and climbs tall mountains. She swims through deep oceans, attempting to find an end to her probing questions and concerns. She is a woman in all her glory, able to process, solve, and torment those around her, as she tries to figure out, plan, and make lists, of current situations.
"Honey, did you hear me?" she asks.
He looks at her with a blank stare. Surly he will not have to endure her ramblings once more. He has heard her for the hundredth time as she explains each detail, with added verbiage that almost sends him into a brain freeze.
"I heard you." He says simply.
Unable to speak, he worries that it may spark another long conversation that he so desperately wants to avoid.
"I am not sure you heard me, it appears as if you are not listening." She adds smartly.
She is calculating, rearranging, planning, seeking, and it is necessary she have his undivided attention. She does not need his permission, as this would be the last thing she wants. It is his undivided attention she needs. Eyes, body, heart should be focused on her and not on the television.
"What…you were talking to me?"
The battle has begun. Just those few words have sent her into a rage, and there is no going back. He will forever have to sit in his lounge chair, missing his best shows for the next five hours, as he tunes out her rantings. The subject at hand will be forever lost, as now the winds of change have blown in like a tornado and a new conversation has begun about how he does not listen to her.
"Why did I just say that," he says under his breath.
He admonishes himself for not being smarter or quicker on his feet. The dog looks up as he moans loudly. Now his night is forever lost in time.
Will I ever learn the art of conversation with this woman, he thinks to himself.
Grabbing the remote, he turns off the television. He leans back in his favorite chair, places his hands behind his head, and closes his eyes, as he prepares himself for battle.
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