Brenda and Howard: I hear you breathing when you sleep

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Brenda and Howard Series: Meet Brenda Part 2

Hello Readers!

What do you mean you have no idea what the devil you're doing at my blog?  Surely you're here to read the next installation of my Brenda and Howard series!  If you have no bloody clue who Brenda or Howard is, do yourself a favor and read the beginning of the series here.  If you want to read the part 1 to this part 2, by all means click this sweet fucker.

So for those of you who have been on board since Howard killed Brenda (that was a misdirect for the new readers), I've tweaked the last entry's last paragraph a wee bit.  Nothing too crazy, but you may want to catch up as I have in my neglect to thoroughly edit that last paragraph.  Here is photograph of your smug blogger to make up for it.

Iron Man all day.

Enjoy the blog!
Hermia

Meet Brenda Part 2

Relief.  That was all Brenda felt when Howard pulled into the driveway.  She resisted the urge to call him all day as anticipation gnawed at her gut.  Around six her resolve broke and she phoned his office.  His secretary told her that he had left the office a bit early, vomited in the a.m. she said.  This was no comfort.  Concern polluted Brenda's anticipation, but didn't dim it.  However as the light faded, worry and night darkened her mood.

Although they had discussed ad nauseam to stop her birth control months ago, the actualization of their dreams would certain require adjustment.  She hadn't slept the evening before save for semi-conscious tossing and turning as light began to silhouette the curtains.  After hours of contemplation she decided to break the news coyly by making the mundane into a miraculous message

We are indeed pregnant! was the original words.  The indeed was cut to curb theatricality.  The we are joined in a conjunction that cut the message to two succinct words.  

We're pregnant 

She had covertly scrawled the words while Howard showered that morning.  Brenda knew that Howard would appreciate the execution.  Well, had Howard not fallen ill so suddenly, he would have appreciated it, schemed all day as he does to execute a wonderfully romantic dinner with lots of wine. 

By eight o' six on the fast kitchen clock, Brenda realized either one of two things occurred:  Howard got into an automotive accident and was occupied, or Howard was stubborn stupid and went to his spin class in spite of his early cookie tossage.

Her relief eclipsed her excitement when her arms were able to verify her husband was in one piece, albeit severely pale and clammy.  Poor love.  Brenda voiced the obvious from years of caring for sick Howards--he hadn't even looked at lunch, as even the sight of food would have risen a wave of nausea.  Thus, she thought to herself, he still doesn't know.

The game is on. 

Brenda had yet another opportunity to sharpen her coyness to tell Howard the news.  She smiled secretly to herself after nudging her naked husband into the shower.  News could wait, Brenda resolved to reschedule the talk until after his recuperation.

 First, soup.

Brenda and Howard: Meet Brenda Part 1

*Updated on January 22, 2014 because I failed to edit the original last paragraph that probably read as random...I mean, there was no mention of going out to dinner.  In the next installation they're staying in.  Whoops.  Spoiler alert.*

Hey there readers,

I hope that those of you that celebrated the holidays had a fabulous time and didn't have too many regretful New Years Eve trysts.  If you did, I hope it was worth it.  For the last twoish weeks I've been contemplating the direction of the Brenda and Howard series.  Am I just going to write through Howard's perspective?  Whose story is this really?  How is Brenda going to fit into this story?

I'm still tackling many questions, but that's part of the fun in writing.  I have a general direction, so it's time that I wrote that way and see where it goes.  For those of you who comment, please let me know what you think of Howard and the story so far.  There isn't too much yet on Brenda, however I promise you will see more in the pieces to follow.

Best regards,
Hermia

P.S. Enjoy!


Note:  Please read the first installation of the Brenda and Howard series here.

Meet Brenda Part 1

Luckily the break room at Howard's work had an usual variety of Cliff bars, a Keurig, and some left over celebratory whiskey in the freezer.  His lunch tasted like a blueberry hangover.  The Cliff bar and Irish coffee he had were dancing a pagan ritual to god of Saturn deep in his abdomen.  Each pulsing drumbeat matched the throbbing over Howard's right temple, which was neatly framed by his immaculate hairline.  With fumbling hands, he dug in his briefcase for anything minty.  His endeavors encounter stray wrappers of long consumed cough drops, adventurous paper clips, and a tin mints Brenda snuck into that particular pocket.  The mints were as stale as his marriage.

Apparently the time they had spent together really melted the boundaries of personal space and ownership of briefcases to a point of intimacy.  The color of the post its in his desk drawer were chosen by her.  The vast majority of her flats were chosen by him.  They had met at a pep rally in Brenda's senior year in high school.  She had a vague, post-romantic relationship to the remnants of his old clique.  He was a freshman in a far away college visiting his alma mater.  Although he told himself he would never visit home, he found himself looking for something familiar as a reprieve from collegiate experimentation.  She was a go-getting star senior already accepted into her reach schools and looking for an adult romance.

Sitting at his desk rather unproductively, he flung rubber bands at a framed photograph that stood sentinel by his computer monitor.  Brenda and Howard were dancing closely in the shot from a college friend's wedding.  He recalled being genuinely happy playing at an ingenuine relationship.  Anger and nausea rose like waves while he reminisced on his secret trysts, his missed opportunities, and his relationship with Brenda.  One of his rubber ring missiles knocked it's adversary to the ground.  A call from his secretary distracted him from replacing it. 

Due to a strangely awkward spin class, Howard didn't get home until 8pm.  As he pulled into the driveway, the front door of their raised ranch house flew open.  When he saw Brenda standing in the front doorway silhouetted against the lights from within, he realized that he hadn't called or texted her to confirm and celebrate their new situation.  In truth he left his cell in his car all day, still plugged in and currently playing Moby.

Fuuuuuuuck

Brenda launch herself from the stoop at Howard.  From the lack of light to perceive her facial expression, he tensed as her robe clad arms snaked their way around him.  He registered this as affection and not an attempt to squeeze him in contempt.

"I thought there was an accident," Howard heard from the wavy bob smothered against his chest.  A long rambling lost itself in muffled expressions of distress and explanations that his secretary told her he had been sick.  Just when he was starting to believe that her head couldn't get further buried from worry into his chest, Brenda looked up.  Her arms were still belted around his waist.

"If you were sick, I'm assuming you didn't eat lunch.  I know how food upsets your tummy when you're unwell." Howard's ears perked at the all too ready alibi for his lack of celebratory flowers and enthusiasm for the news he allegedly hadn't received.  How best to twist this turn of luck?  With a pseudo contemplative kiss to her fringed forehead, he conveniently and romantically suggested a dinner out because the night was too beautiful to not enjoy.  Luckily the sky was clear enough to kinda-sorta see the stars.

Brenda didn't bring up the pregnancy as she flitted between the kitchen, where she was working on soup for him, and the bedroom, where he semi collapsed on the bed still in his gym clothes.  She rambled on about the end of the year faculty meeting and proposed goals to improve next year as she ushered him into the bathroom to coax him into the shower.  He smiled as she walked away on silent feet clad in flats he chose for her.  There was no mention of maternity leave or plans.  Surely she would drop that news soon enough? Her uterus bomb won't go off for at least another seven months.  Seven months was plenty of time for Howard to evacuate ground zero.

Brenda and Howard: Pabst Blue Ribbon and Smiling Mustard

Note to the Reader:  I've been struck with a great idea for a 7 part serial following two characters and their married life.  Trust me, it'll be a bit more interesting than that description.  Enjoy!

Pabst Blue Ribbon and Smiling Mustard

            There's a day in a man's life when his wife's usage of two simple words cause an internal apocalypse.  On a June Tuesday morning after 5 years of marital bliss, Howard's wife Brenda handed him his lunch with the usual good bye kiss on the cheek.  What was unusual was the extra weight in a usually light sandwich ladened bag due to the celebratory beer she had packed for him.  A beer celebrating the two words she had scrawled on a neatly folded paper towel.  Two words that oozed the scent of Sharpie, mustard, and turkey--"We're pregnant". 

            In Brenda's excitement hours earlier, she squeezed yellow lines of mustard into a smiling face before layering on lettuce and lunchmeat.  She subscribed to the belief that love made sandwiches better.  Howard's face was anything but happy sitting behind his glass desk behind glass partitions.  In fact for the last four months of their trying to have a baby, it was really a one sided venture.  Sure sheets were grasped, the appropriate cum faces and cuddles were done, but Howard was dreading the fateful day Brenda's urine would become potent with baby indicating hormones. 

            The sandwich was dumped and the PBR can drained.  Howard, who was unaccustomed to drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon at 11:30 in the morning, promptly speed-walked to the office bathroom to vomit.  He got as far as the ladies room sink.  With the taste of alcohol and half digested oatmeal fermenting in his mouth, he stared at his exceptionally groomed face in the mirror.  The furrow between his well maintained eyebrows belied the waves of self loathing and anger.  Anger at his life long cowardice.  You see, dear reader, Howard was a closeted homosexual. 

Guest Post: War is Hell, and Sinning is Delightful Part 2

Note to the Reader:  Sorry that it took so long to get this guest post out.  And yes, I'm copping out of my Wednesday post by posting a late guest post.  Yeah, I know.  My parents' expectations of my life are probably the standard to which you should hold your expectations of my posting schedule.  That bar is limbo low.  In regard to this Nony piece, I really wish I just sat down and edited it with the first part.  The two are much stronger together than apart.  I'm personally looking forward to the next installation because this one was a ripe cunt to edit.  I may be too close to it to appreciate it singularly, and frankly, I'm/we're still waiting for the story to move along.

Have you ever heard of Hedonic Adaptation?       

War is Hell, and the sinning is delightful. (part 2)

               Put simply, it is the reason why the amount of Nutella you put on your drumstick gets larger with each passing day, until you get tired of it. We all experience this little bitch in one facet of our life or another. The reason we exist and push onward as ethical, sexual, political, intellectual etc... creatures is because of a need for new and exciting additions to our personal experiences.

               The experiences of war (especially of those who have indulged in the savaged privileges granted to them by unnatural positions of authority in foreign lands) have irreversible effects on a man's appetites in ways you would be fascinated to hear an NPR report about.  As with the previously mentioned lack of recruitment standards, a whole lot of Bill & Ted's with preexisting fascinating appetites were given clean slates after a retreat to an environment in which they were pretty much allowed to get away with rape and murder.

               You may not be aware of it. You may deny it. Doesn't change the fact that the world is a hard and tragic place that does produce people with certain quirks and kinks in their minds. For an assortment of "logical and ethical" reasons they are perfectly normal at least in their own eyes. Then they are just sent home and out of respect granted the don't ask, don't tell policy in regard to their experiences.  Their extracurricular proclivities simply never entered public view.

               Sighting down my scope, I realized that I don't know what to do about any of these issues.  I can't do anything about the numerous teachers, preachers, politicians, and god knows who or what else that get away with such despicable deeds.  Many just slip through the cracks of bureaucracy only to commit savage acts yet again.

               I honestly believe you can never know the mind of another man. Thus I can't pronounce with absolutely certainty that I was correct, but the look Bill and Ted had through my scope left me without a shred of doubt that they aimed to misbehave that day.   

               In their minds eye they are perfectly normal for a conglomeration of logical and ethical self redeeming delusions.  But when I look into the mirror eyes of  men like Bill and Ted, I see a creature who knows how much more intense and satisfying it is to take without permission. To gnaw at a thighbone with claws and teeth covered in mud and blood.            

               As I watch Bill and Ted start to descend towards the sun bathing girl, I remembered something some talking head Wall Street prick said in an interview.  He was going on about his belief in the "Falling Tree Methodology." What's that, you ask? If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is there to notice, then it's legal. That was his legal, ethical moral guiding tool. The CNN bloke or whoever was interviewing him just nodded and agreed, as if this is the new norm. 

               When you are deployed, everyone knows everyone if not directly, then by association via rumors and stories. Based on what everyone knew about Bill and Ted, I knew they subscribed to that man's sort of methodology. When we returned home, I couldn't let it go.  After a while I began shadowing Bill and Ted from time to time. Eventually, I found myself watching them through the scope of a barrowed rifle as they stalked to rape a girl in the middle of the woods.  Perhaps, come to think of it, they might have just been trying to kidnap her. But then, definitely rape her, I would bet.

               Do details like that matter to you?  

My Parents Aren't the Only People Disappointed

Will post a blog tomorrow. 

Have you ever thought about the person who would find your dead body?  Strange leading question for my upcoming entry, I know.  Think about it.

Love,
Hermia (or whatever Pseudonym I'm going by)

Guest Post: War is Hell, and Sinning is Delightful (Part 1)

Some Insight for the Readers:  Let's speak on length and content.  This serial already was a huge monster of text before I got my grubby, bloggy hands on it.  When I made the agreement with my writer friend, Nonny, to take that monster and share it with the world, I had the stipulation of 500ish words.  I'm not too persnickety about the 500, but I wanted to keep the serial to have enough content to make your brain-gonads want more.  This is a two parter, which was divided by Nonny.  In regard to content, this is definitely a food for thoughty installation.  Really digest it.  Read it a few times.  Then curse Nony for not moving the story along.  Yeah, he can suck a monkey for drawing this sucker out.

Enjoy!

What a piece of work is man?

War is Hell, and the Sinning is Delightful. (part 1)              

               The whole concept of "Sin" has lost all its weight in western culture. I'm not weighing in on this from a political or religious stand point mind you, just an objective observation. With the rise of secularism in the world, the idea that individuals, cultures, and even whole nations could be rewarded or punished based on the merit of their actions and behavior has been shrugged. I would have to write a rather novel book to answer all the critics on that statement, but stick with me here.

               With so many atheists and faux religious people in this world who have no idea what sinning is, the dynamics of human interaction have changed a bit and next to no one has noticed this.  

               I'm sorry... I do not know how to put this gracefully, so I'm going to just cut the shit.

               People just don't understand the gray miasma which is now ethics. There are a few things that I need you to be aware of so you can see why I had to put Bill and Ted down in front of a 18 year old girl, but not before letting them scare her for a bit.

               Out of over 3 million people, only 1.4 million serve currently in the US military. Out of that number, only about 200,000 are female. As you might imagine when deployed in places like Iraq or Afghanistan there are very few women around. Now think about the goings on of war throughout history. In my blunt summation, it was mostly a brutal and all too imaginable rape orgy. Especially if the motivations of the people involved were religious in nature. 

               In the days of occupation post the 2003 Iraq War and long after the President had declared "Mission Accomplished", which I guess is a modern way of declaring armistices, the American economy was booming. The news media was painting the ongoing conflict as sloppy, bloody, and increasingly unnecessary. The truth about poor equipment, neglected troops, and crimes against humanity made recruiting for the war effort difficult for the military.

               In light of this the Marine Core and Army began to wave their recruitment restrictions. The bar to which these standards were lowered makes me wish this were fiction. Any who was willing was recruited, scrubbed, and shipped off.  It mattered not if on their glowing CV was a list of prior drug charges or violent crime convictions.  Although throughout human history it was normal for the military to accept a the ragtag rapey type, but unique in today's secular and capitalist world. The truly hilarious thing is, they started paying outrageous bonuses to men who would agree prior to ever touching foot in boot camp, to go through boot camp and go straight to Iraq.

               Hell, up to and over six figures was offered to get Special Forces quotas. Despite all this, they still couldn't get enough people.

               Naturally, some very unsavory types were drawn into this sort of work.   

By: Nony