Doug Hawley 

Dark And Stormy 

It was 10:11PM and the wind was raging, and the rain was frightful.  The house was shaking and creaking.  I could have tolerated it if I had felt better.  My stomach was rumbling, and I could barely keep my food down.  My intestines were as water and sweat poured down my face, even as I was chilled.  My head throbbed, though I hadn’t had a headache in years before this night. 

Even though it was taking my health both mental and physical, I must complete my task before midnight.  As much as I had tried to finish earlier and avoid the torture that would attend an incomplete job, I was thwarted by those who were supposed to support me in my quest.  Those that I had counted on were late and inadequate in their portion of the complex riddle that I faced. 

Even knowing the horrors of being late, I had to lose the torment caused by the contents of my stomach, but even that didn’t help.  My stomach continued to roil and now my discomfort was doubled by the taste of bile in my mouth and its foul stench in my nose.  Combined with the aura of my fear and horror, I was in every way a pariah. 

At 10:35 I thought that I would succeed, only to be plagued by diarrhea.  After an abbreviated cleanup, I smelled the wretched odor of my latest calamity.  By the time I could return to my task the clock showed 10:50. 

By 11:14 I felt short term triumph as I had succeeded.  Oh, but the results would ruin my life, even if I could deliver them by midnight. 

At 11:57 this broken man delivered his tax return to the post office, just in time to avoid late penalties.  In the process of finishing, I rediscovered capital gains that I had already spent.  With no time to find another tax preparer, my man Steve Hinson had to have a fatal heart attack.  With no experience in taxes, I was forced to take over the job.  I owed $5,678 to the Feds, and $2,897 to the state.  Why hadn’t my accountant warned me and why was my investment firm Grubber & Grubber so late with my tax forms?   

What bothers me most by this hit to my budget is lost time with Scherezade.  I’ve had her on retainer for several years now alternating her masochistic and sadistic sessions.  She costs a lot but is number one is so many categories.  BDSMagazine rates her at the top in all these categories – costumes, whips, dildos, vinyl, fur, torture, and pain.  Just the thought of her tightens my pants and makes my mouth go dry.  

There would be no upgrade to my three-year-old Mercedes, no dates at fine restaurants, and Starbucks visits would be cut back to four a week.  Has any man ever been as miserable?

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