Once, I was a happy woman.
I was a mother. I had two wonderful children who knew how to behave themselves: Constance and Aaron.
I was a wife. My husband, Christian, was a good solid man I could count on.
That was just a few months ago. How could we have known, back then, that our blissful family would soon be torn apart forever by the forces of Satan?
Oh, as I look back on it now, I can see that there were signs, like when Mr. Penderglass down the street started wearing teal, or when attendance at the Boy Scouts pack meeting started going down, or when Father Hanlon, who holds mass down at the All Souls Grace Blessing Rosary of Our Lady of the Aching Lower Back Cathedral started a midnight solo boy's glee club, with rehearsals in room 204 at the Motel Six. At the time, of course, I just thought it was God working in mysterious ways.
If I had to choose one moment when my denial finally started to crumble, it would be the time when I found a smudge of bright red lipstick on the front pocket of Christian's best short-sleeved white wrinkle-free Sunday dress shirt. You see, every night when Christian comes home from work, I greet him at the door with a nice kiss on the cheek. The thing is, I only wear purple shades of lipstick, ranging from a light violet to a medium mauve. A few years ago, the Mary Kay representative on my block let me know, confidentially, that anything outside of this color range would be considered indiscreet, given my complexion. I don't even own any red lipstick. Too much red can give men the wrong idea.
Well, I was pretty upset seeing that red lipstick on my husband's collar. I confronted Christian that very evening, right after I kissed him at the door and brought him his evening glass of beer.
He didn't deny anything. He told me that had spent the afternoon in an alley, french kissing a woman named Tanya he had met in a tavern, after getting drunk on Schlitz malt liquor using money he had withdrawn from our children's college fund.
When I demanded an explanation, he looked at me with a confused expression on his face and asked me, "Haven't you heard that the Supreme Court in Massachusetts has said that it's legal for gay couples to get married?"
Suddenly, everything became clear.
I ran across the living room and fell into the Lazy Boy where Christian was sitting, and threw my arms around him. "Oh, you poor baby," I cried. "You must feel awful! Why didn't you just call me to let me know?"
Christian gazed deeply into my teary eyes. "What's the point of being honest with each other anymore, honey, now that gays can get married in Massachusetts?"
"Do you mean to say..."
"Darling, let's admit it. Our marriage is over."
To hear these words from my husband was a difficult thing. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that I just didn't care about him anymore, now that gay people were going to be getting married. The love was gone, thanks to that damn homosexual agenda.
I was about to ask Christian if he would like to experiment with some non-traditional lifestyle choices when I heard the front door opening. It was the kids coming home from school! How would we break it to them?
Aaron set down his backpack to kiss me on the cheek. He was wearing a navy blue blazer with a matching tie, ornamented only with an American flag lapel pin. "Gosh mom," he said as he passed us by on the way to change into his Eagle Scout uniform, "what a long day at school! Still, I know that the Lord wants us to study hard so that we can read the Bible."
As Constance walked into the kitchen, her ankle-length grey flannel skirt brushed up against Christian's wrist, and I saw his cheeks grow red. "Hey, honey," he leaned over to whisper, "Now that we're going to get a divorce, do you mind if I ask Constance to go out with me to the drive-in tonight? I promise I won't go past third base until she's ready."
What the hell, I thought. Sure, she's our daughter, but now that gays are going to be allowed to get marriage licenses in downtown Boston, all concepts of morality are destroyed, and it doesn't really make a difference anymore. I wondered to myself which of my neighbors' houses would be the easiest to break into - I needed a cup of sugar.
Constance turned on the radio in the kitchen to the Christian AM station we always listen to, and that's when our family's fate was finally sealed. The Lord's news update was saying that gay people in San Francisco were being allowed to get married right then and there!
Constance turned around suddenly, with a strange look on her face that I had never seen before. All of a sudden, she started running towards the front door, ripping off her clothes. The last I saw of her, she was skipping down the street, wearing nothing but a flower in her hair, screaming, "I'm sexually promiscuous now! Does anyone want to have some casual sex so that I can get a sexually transmitted disease and then have an abortion?"
Aaron came downstairs with a hurt and confused look on his face. "Golly," he whispered to Christian, "do you think that Constance has been influenced by the 1960s culture of permissiveness?"
Christian frowned and said, "Son, all that you need to know that gay people are getting married in San Francisco."
Immediately, Aaron ripped the merit badges from his uniform and threw them on the floor. "Fucking shit, Mom," he said to me. "I guess I'd better drop out of school and join a gang of juvenile delinquents."
"Okay," I said, feeling all my parental authority melting away, "But try to be home before midnight. We'll be getting Cinemax now, and I'll bet there will be a really sexy and violent movie on after prime time. Maybe we can even illegally record it on our VCR."
Aaron told me to shut up, then burped and walked out the door.
Christian and I sighed. It was hard to say goodbye to him, but I knew the time had come. The homosexual agenda had succeeded in destroying our family, even though we had been happy, secure, and God-fearing just a few hours before.
Who knows what will happen next? I suppose that as the news of gay marriages in San Francisco spreads, everybody in town will be getting divorced.
I'm not sure where I'll end up, of course, but I'm taking my first steps in this new world shaped by homosexuality. I suppose I'll have to become a lesbian now. I've put in a call to the local Lions Club asking if they know about where I can get in touch with a baby-killing satanic cult in our area, and I've cancelled the check I wrote last week to the Christian Coalition.
To think that it all could have been different, if gay people had just left well enough alone and not wanted to get married.
|Irregular Times require talking back.|
Give us your Irregular Retorts!
We are also eagerly awaiting original submissions of quality irregularity.