It had been a long day at work, like every Saturday before that for the past fifteen years. It was almost midnight, and for the seven thousandth time, he missed another cookout. Who had invited him this weekend? Was it the neighbor, or his brother? It didn’t matter. All he wanted to do was get to his bedroom and lay next to his wife, who he knew had become desensitized to their marriage. Yes, his situation was finally there, on the cusp of carelessness, and no amount of overtime nor any dwindling hope for a promotion would remedy that.
     His troubling thoughts pushed his tired soul from his middle-class sedan to the front door, and he jammed the key in with the tenacity and the mood of someone who’d had one too many drinks. He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror he saw his wife, fully nude, riding a horse, no, a man…was his mind playing tricks on him? She was atop what appeared to be a centaur, who was having a blast galloping around the entirety of their living room. The walls had hoof marks and holes everywhere he looked, the ceiling fan was dangling from one measly strand of wiring like a botched decapitation, and the flat screen, his one relief, his only joy nowadays, was utterly cracked and on the floor. As he took in the bizarre scene in shock, the mythological beast stomped twice on the TV, obliterating it further.
     “Hi honey, how was work?" asked his wife, who seemed to be particularly enjoying the bounce that each gallop provided.
     He couldn’t speak; he just lost the ability to do so. He didn’t know if he was sad, outraged, going insane or what. His house, much like his marriage, was falling to pieces in front of him. He’d be the laughing stock of the neighborhood (he could already hear the whispers that would haunt him during his evening jogs). He’d be invited to parties out of pity, or to be asked uncomfortable questions. His social life would only plummet further than it had due to his frequent declining of invitations, and everywhere he went, he’d be the guy who got cheated on with a...a myth.
     But this was his turf, his safe haven, and no one, not even a beast from Herculean legends, was going to destroy it without his say-so. He mustered all his rage - which helped him remember how to speak - and yelled “STOP!” To his surprise, the beast obeyed him, and both he and his wife stared at him, scared of whatever he’d do next.
     He stripped to the bone, approached them and asked his wife, “Make some room for me, my love?”