Gregory

Gregory sat in his living room on his big Chartreuse couch. He knew, for a fact, that it was chartreuse because of his Wife, Emmalina. Emmalina had spent hours agonizing over furniture when they'd first moved in 45 years ago.

    "Oh Greggy!" she'd  said in that sing songy voice that set all of his senses on fire.

 "Oh Greggy Greggy! Look at this! It's the most perfect shade of chartreuse! Can we get it Greggy? Oh please?"

    So now, 45 years into the future, Greg sat on this worn Chartreuse couch. He reached for his beer on the side table. Non alcoholic. Emmalina had hated when he drank, so he quit.

    "Oh Greggy! Oh Greggy, I worry about you. I don't want you to get sick. You know, My granddaddy got sick from drinking too much beer. He drank so much that my Gran had to move an old mattress out onto the porch for all the nights he came home drunk as a skunk. Poor Granddaddy could never find his keys when he was drunk like that. And Gran had all of those babies to take care of. She didn't want him coming home and banging on the door at all hours of the night. So, She put out that mattress. Gran was so resourceful. OH Greggy! I don't want to have to lock you out of our home! Our perfect home!"

Gregory had done everything for Emmalina. Everything. He'd changed his hair, his drinking habits. He got a job at the Post office because Emmalina had thought that his job at the butcher's was too "icky".

    "You come home with all that blood all over you Greggy. It's so yucky. I hate it. Can't you please work somewhere clean? I get so scared when I think about all that blood and all those poor animals getting all butchered up, Greggy. Please Greggy"

Chartreuse. The color of Piss, if you ask Gregory. He hated that couch. He hated working at the Post office. The only thing keeping his life together was his absolute unwavering deep passionate love for Emmalina. He looked at the TV in front of him. He had yet to turn it on. In the black face of the monitor he could see himself. Sitting on the heinous couch, drinking that awful, awful  "beer". He was disgusted with himself. He didn't even recognize that man in the reflection. He looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:30 pm. He wondered about Emmalina. Where was she this late? Where was the meaning of it all? Where was the beauty in the dark cavern that had engulfed his life?

        "Emmalina?" Gregory let out a small whimper. He hated the sound that left his lips. So castrated. Like he was begging permission to even speak her name. He'd been a tough burly man for the whole of his life. He'd never say "Sir" to anyone.  When Emmalina came along, all of that changed. He'd become a polite, church going member of society. At least to the outside world.

You see

Gregory still had needs, a man often does have needs. They come in all different forms. Sometimes the lust of the flesh, sometimes the thirst of alcohol. Sometimes the desire to destroy.

Gregory had possessed all  three of these needs, and Emmalina had stripped them away. Slowly at first, it started with the drinking.

Then came his Job.

Gregory had been ok with waiting until their wedding night to experience physical love with one another. He'd been alright with her reasoning. He'd understood the importance of maintaining her purity. He had no problem with waiting.

He knew that when they'd get married, that he could focus all of his manly needs into His beautiful wife. He could transfer all of what she had stripped away into love.

And this, this idea made him feel more Holy. Closer to God. Closer to Emmalina.

    At first, being physically romantic with Emmalina was enough. For the first 2 months of their marriage Gregory was sated. He had everything he needed, in Emmalina.

Then, oh then, the imposter.

Emmalina was so ecstatic about the intrusion

"Oh Greggy! We're going to have a little Greggy or a little Emmy! We're going to be a Mama and Papa! Aren't you proud, Gregory? Aren't you?"

That was the first time in their relationship that she'd called him 'Gregory' it was so fast that you'd almost not notice

But Gregory noticed. You'd think a grown man would be happy that his 23 year old wife was finally dropping the pet names, but not Gregory. Hearing her call him "Greggy" had been making him fully aroused for 1 1/2 years. He'd finally been able to do something with it, and now 2 months into their marriage, everything was ruined. He had to do something. He couldn't just let a small human come between him and his desires, his needs.

He did what had to be done.

         The doctor had said that it was a "Miscarriage" that the child just stopped developing.

    "Don't worry" The Doctor had said to a sobbing Emmalina

    "You will be able to try again in a few months"

Gregory saw to it that when they did try again, nothing came of it.

It was so simple. Just a little bit of a thing. Just a little foxglove. not enough to kill her, but just enough to rid her of the imposter. Gregory knew that a baby would strip the purity from his perfect bride. That the final castration would be complete.

Every time they "tried" he would feed her a little with her dinner. She didn't realize it of course. Emmalina, so trusting. So loving. To her, it was nothing more than a romantic meal. But Gregory knew. He would get all the fun.....with no repercussions.

        Gregory snapped back into the now. He looked down at his empty bottle of beverage. Gregory let out an exasperated sigh, and rose to his feet. It was almost dinner time. 8 pm every night. Maybe there would be something in the refrigerator. A leftover casserole, or maybe some jello. Something to tide him over. As Gregory entered the kitchen, he saw the silhouette of a person at the kitchen table. He turned on the light….

    "Oh! Emmy my love, when did you get home?" he reached for her, but she pulled away.

    "Why Gregory? Why did you do this to us?" Gregory was shocked.

    "That's no way to speak to the man who loves you. That's no way to treat someone who has done everything for you. Why would you pull away? Why would you come home so late? Why would you ask such a terrible question?"

 Emmalina looked down at her hands. That's when Gregory saw that they were stained red.

Gregory backed up. His heart beating in his chest so hard.

     "WHAT'S WRONG? WHY IS THERE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS?"

        "I've tried. I have tried, so hard Gregory. I did everything you asked of me. I was sweet. I was virginal, I was everything you could have ever wanted. Why wasn't it enough Gregory? Why?" Emmalina's eyes welled up with tears. Her face began to radiate a red hot

    "Gregory! ANSWER ME!"

    Gregory stepped back once more. He looked, deeply into the eyes of his bride. She was looking straight at him now. And he could see. He could see everything.

Hair, black from the rain.

Mud caked onto her cheek....the whites of her eyes were violet red, the sockets bruised

    "I-I didn't want to be a Father" Gregory managed to spit out all at once.

" I only wanted it to be us Emmy! You know! You and me! In love! You remember Emmy!"

Emmalina forced her hands up to either side of her head, making a God awful clapping Reminiscent of glass breaking on the ground.

        "No Gregory! Why! Why did you do this to me Gregory?! WHY GREGGY WHY"

The sound of her saying his name, finally after 45 years, sent a surge of adrenaline throughout his body.

 He had to have her right there. And then.

Gregory lunged at Emmalina, with all of his might, toppling her off the chair and to the ground. He began furiously pawing at her

        "No Greggy! Not now, not like this!" He tore off her already weathered blouse. He was even more excited by the bruises on her chest.

    "Oh Emmy, I've wanted to hold you like this for so long" he wrapped his hand around her breast. He could feel where the skin was broken. She let out a pained whimper. He squeezed. Hard.

"After losing my job at the post office.....after being ostracized from the church....I thought nothing would ever be the same again....oh Emmy....oh my beautiful lamb...."

Gregory ran his hands down her body to her skirt, tearing it off in one swift motion. Her stockings were already ripped........

He stopped. Her stockings..... were already ripped. He looked up into the eyes of the woman he had begun to ravage. Her eyes were blue. A sickly ocean blue.

Emmalina had hazel eyes.

Gregory rose to his feet.

    "You're not my wife"

The woman on the floor lay motionless and began shaking her head.

    "I....did.....every...thing.....you....asked....of....me...."

Gregory looked down at the woman on the floor.

    "YOU'RE NOT MY EMMY!"

The woman winced.

    "I'm.......I.....came to help......after....your wife....."

Gregory stood straight,  regaining his composure.

        "Just get started on dinner Emmy. I'm not mad. We can talk about it after dinner. I just don't like to be tricked. I'm thinking a nice roast tonight? Yes....that would be lovely"

He walked to the refrigerator and got out a nice cold non alcoholic.

Gregory sat in his living room on his big Chartreuse couch. He knew, for a fact, that it was chartreuse because of his Wife Emmalina. Emmalina had spent hours agonizing over furniture when they'd first moved in 45 years ago.....

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