Because I must enjoy pain to keep doing this...
Lily shuffled through the dank evening streets, knowing she should find her husband Spank Rearend but not particularly wanting to. She'd known of his infidelity of course - this most recent and his previous ones - and had as usual kept mum about the whole thing. She'd learned through long, painful experience not to press Spank as he more than lived up to his name.
Though she did wonder if the little financial security their sham marriage provided was worth the embarassment of that night. Not just her husband being so publicly affectionate with his mistress Daffy Braggart and her brother's wedding, but at finding the two of them in an alley just now, Spank vigorously railroading the railroad exec.
"Oh Franky!" Daffy cried, remembering Francisco Domingo Carlo Banana Fana bo Binko d'Ano The Third who'd been mincing about in the last chapter.
"Yeah, take it Franky!" hollered back Spank Rearend. "I'm not gay!"
It was times like this Lily really considered just leaving... But where would she go?
She wasn't stupid. She knew just walking out on Spank would absolve him of all the obligations stipulated by their marriage - namely the financial support Lily would need. She'd been a kept woman so long it would be hell to try and find a job. And despite the many reasons for divorce Spank had given her over the course of the narrative, she knew he'd fight her every step of the way. He wasn't the sharpest spoon in the pudding but he was tenacious when it came to grabbing money.
"Which I don't want but take anyway! It's about principles and shit!"
Spank, you're too dumb to break the fourth wall.
"Right! My bad!"
So needless to say. Lily felt trapped. She saw every opportunity to relieve her misery as a distant door slammed shut, receding in the distance like the elipses used by mediocre writers in lieu of proper transitions.
* * *
Spank Rearend sat in his office. The plasma screen mounted on the wall relayed the latest news in the d'Ano scandal.
"Sources now say Mister d'Ano not only had no copper, but knew this and the many reports he filed with the police regarding 'stolen' ore are fraudulent."
"That's right, Bob. Mister d'Ano defrauded just about everyone in Mexico and a number of private investors here in America, running from major firms to average citizens looking to diversify their IRAs."
"No word yet on if the Mexican government will honor the contract between d'Ano and his many cheated investors. Cindy, I don't know how many folks out there know this, but American laws require investors be paid their principle even in the event of bankruptcy."
"Yes, Bob. Because we have rule of law here, where everyone is equal regardless of wealth or inherited privilege."
Spank sneered contemptuously at the big TV screen. "'Rule of law!' Feh!"
And he was disappointed no one was paying attention to him. "Judy!" he barked into the intercom. "Send in some peon to bask in my brilliance!"
"My name is Roger, sir," replied the much put upon office manager.
But the door to Spank's office opened anyway and in came Doctor Floyd. He'd been tasked with making a study of Spank Rearend's new wonder metal spankmeum - mostly a wonder how it could be so green and flammable.
"Mister Rearend," Floyd said pleasantly. "I hope I'm not intruding?"
Spank just bawwed like the big baby he was.
"Oh, uh... Well, I hope we can get through this smoothly. I know you don't want anymore contempt of court charges."
"You just hate how awesome I am!" whined Spank.
"Mister Rearend, I'm just here to study the, er..." Few people other than Spank himself really care to refer to the mistery alloy as "spankmeum." Can you blame them?
"You used to like my metal!" Spank sputtered. "And you changed your mind! You're inconstant! A flip-flopper!"
"I don't really remember that," Floyd said politely, trying to diffuse the situation. "And to be fair, any previously produced metal of yours has less bearing on your current product than, y'know, empirical study."
"You're too weak to be emperor!"
"Okay, I think we're in a different parody now."
No, see, it's a pun.
"Christ... How much longer is this scene?"
Find out at our sister blag, Atlas Shirked!