Johnny wanted a divorce, and he wanted it quick. This, he thought, was to save his offspring, to spare his mind, and to release himself from the existence of a shear and utter lie. Life was like this. He had to make a decision to get out, and do it quick.
This was no random act. He saw the red flags. One, a wife gone wild. Two, a false child- existing as a dipsomaniac, not to mention, a sociopath. And Three, he saw the dropper on the nightstand… He had read Shakespeare.
Come to think of it Johnny didn’t need an excuse. The way she treated the cat, she treated the kids, she treated herself, was a shame. Even their lawyer was a shame, plain, simple, and common.
She didn’t have her bureau together. She worked in a hodge-podge piecemeal half-assed attempt at a firm, disorganization abound, practice needing practice. This small town needed something, and it was freedom. Johnny would find it.
Johnny thought, I’ll take the cat, I’ll fake my death, I’ll buy a car, and I’ll be gone in a moment. This was his plan all along, but she, Johnny’s wife Gertrude, had things running on the side –with her lawyer- you see, this had been done before, a repeat job. He had been found in a bathtub, heart attack apparent. -few questions…
They would make it look like an accident. Johnny’s son would become a modern-day Hamlet, lost in jargon and condolences, she thought. They thought…
It happened on a summer afternoon amongst white dresses, heavy sun, and flowers, some hundreds of miles off, on a dirt trail. They had chosen to use hebenon, as was in the garden a King slain. He lay there for all to see.
Praise was raised.
After Johnny’s untimely demise; wake and funeral, everything had changed. A fall day turned chaotic by imposing clouds of rain.
The Hamlet placed a copy of Hamlet within the casket.
From a frail handed widow assumed, Gertrude turned to a verbose lying wench. Feigned before by the distraught late father’s progeny, proper; half-urchin was half-minded, wit was for the best, the true and pure blooded, were by his side at death.
They knew the look of rot, they saw the objective. Papers and boxes under lock and key, even their decrepit uncle was part of this deceit. They sought and sought and looked and lost. The young ones languished in the malevolent motives of Gertrude and her foul plot.
Betwixt the part were tenfold records of misdeeds and unclean pleasures; the half-urchin’s abusive and excessive nature exist beyond compare, more-on the widowed Gertrude entirely suspected in similar affairs, and their lawyer common coy, ignorance save ability was beyond destroyed.
On the eve of amassing such nature of accounts, the true sprouts started a pact amidst certain doubt. They would watch from afar as the three and the uncle tore themselves apart, by their own hand and their own heart.
As Lady Macbeth and her man, they knew they could not wash the blood from their hands.
All the expensive fabric in the world couldn’t shroud peering eyes from the facts. A box couldn’t hold its contents. The countenance of evil had shown bright on this visage, playing fool for the fodder with file and film’s alikeness. Stockpiled high, these crimes, stockpiled willfulness lacking skill lacking brine*.
And the progeny waited patient. The half-urchin would face a life confined by impulsive spirits consumed. Gertrude would, even in her attempts, and acts of apathy, be locked in the bind of her mind- knowing, not thinking, that all she did was wrong. The lawyer would be nothing more; just a spinner of falsities and deceits, she would have to look upon her own face in the mirror, in the morning and in the eve. The uncle, with having a bad heart, would succumb in no great number of years. His unkind words would leave an empty church hall for the monotonous eulogy to hear.
The pews would question silently, why?
The Hamlet himself was dead from day one, this purgatory. His path lined with the ways of others. How they walked around unawares of their malignance, unclean in their acts of vengeance, ill-prepared and uneducated. He would live it out to witness. He knew not all people were bad, but those around him had proved the worst.