Your fate…

You will start an affair with a beautiful, young woman who is married to a sheriff’s deputy.  While waiting for your one phone call, sporting a black eye and cuff rash on your wrists, you will tell yourself that this was, perhaps, not the best course of conduct. 

You’ll leave a message at the tone and five days later, you will be out on bail.  Your tires are slashed.  You receive threatening text messages from strangers. For no discernable reason, an enormous bouncer will ask you to leave a bar by the back of your shirt. Worse, your lawyer thinks his words are made of gold, and he bills you for calls he makes from atop a toilet.  You get a number of suspicious parking tickets. 

Finally, a trial, and the cheap frame up falls apart.  As you walk from the courthouse, your sense of relief is broken by a group of deputies – their laughter echoing in the hall.  It sounds like crows.  That night, three strong drinks toward recovery, and you will acknowledge – frankly – that you have paid a heavy toll for your affair.  

You will be startled by a late-night knock on your door, and you wonder whether it’s her …. or maybe, deputy dip-shit or one of his errand boys.  You should know better, but you will rise and walk toward the door. Your pizza has arrived.