OGRE #7: Letter to Future Wife

THE OGRE CHRONICLES
This page collects the various works of Ogre, and actual essays and papers he turned into his classes for grades. Whenever possbile, the actual grade recieved will be stated along with the article.


Letter to Future Wife


I figured you would want something to keep you company as you recover from the trauma of seeing so much blood. I didn’t mean to stab that man in our bed with you twenty seven times. I guess I’m an extremely jealous man. Now that I’m rotting away in this prison and have already made friends with my cellmate. I wont need you anymore. I will at least leave you with a time that once was: when we were happy, or it seemed.

Remember the day we meet each other? It was when your family was holding that barbecue outside their trailer. I was the only one there that was somewhat clean, and the only one to actually make it past 7th grade in that little town. We got to know each other a little bit better and we got to kissen’ and huggin’, and well, I remember the first time you gave me fellatio. I’m sorry about your eye; I didn’t mean to, well you know. I guess, after that, besides the fact I had a girlfriend with an eye-patch, I guess I fell in love with a Cyclops, seeing your one beautiful brown eye, I knew my life was going to change. I remember the night I asked you, your eye gleamed in the moon’s light and I gave you my bud-lite, and you said yes, I thought I would have cried, but papa said only pussy’s cry. So I guess we got married because that night you gave me the best piece of ass I had ever received in my life, you did it like this, you did it like that, you did it with the wiffle ball bat! So two weeks later in the back yard of your trailer, we got hitched.

I bet you’re wondering what I saw in you; besides the fact you had the biggest set of hooters I had seen before. I guess it was what that one Judith Langlois said: how when we are little babies, we take a’ liken to beautiful things in the world. You were the only semi-good looking girl in this two-trailer town. You were the only waitress that gave me free beer, and when I couldn’t walk back to my place, you’d carry me back. That isn’t all I saw in you though. You were handy with the bottle opener too. When I look back at some of the better qualities, you were a kind and loving woman, you self disclosed a lot to me, and when we just held each other in the bed of my ford truck it was nice. I also think, that when you weren’t fooling around with other guys, you had qualities that made me love you more than any woman on God’s green earth. The fact that you would cook my food, and clean our little trailer was enough for me, but you would rub my feet, and sometimes, even though our love life was on a downhill, you would give me a ride in the bed. Oh the various ways we would have sex were unbelievable. When we did that Tantric sex I thought I was going to die; I guess it was good Jose came over and walked in on us, we would have been there all day.

This all changed though. When you had to go off and sleep with half the football team, get with your boss, and I even heard about you and Jose! How could you do that to me? I guess you weren’t really human. Just a daemon sent from the underworld to have sex with as many men as you could. That wasn’t the girl I fell in love with. That wasn’t the Cyclops I said I love you to. You turned into someone I couldn’t talk to anymore, into someone that just wasn’t there. You worked, and when you weren’t working you were whoring yourself off. I guess you had one of those fetishes’s with having sex with a lot of men… nymphomaniac? Whatever it was, it broke my heart in two. All I ever wanted out of a woman was to have a child, have her love me, and only me, talk with me, and hold me when I was lonely. I wanted those out of you but you didn’t give me them. I wanted them because its the way I feel, I just wanted to live a normal life, have a house with white picket fence, a Harley, that’s all, not to much to ask.

When I think of our relationship, as it was when we were in love. I think of the passion we had for each other the attraction I had to you was so much. When we would just lay in our little bed and feel so cozy and so close to each other, and my commitment to you as your husband was unchangeable. It was as though we were in some kind of love triangle. It was like that for only a while though. I once had a list of all the different love types: Game-playing, possessive, compassionate, altruistic, and pragmatic. As I read through the list, I knew that our love had none of these. Only a few of them struck me as something that we were. I guess our relationship was less than perfect.

I think it was necessary for us to keep a close relationship with each other after we got married. I’m not saying it worked out to well, but at least we tried in someway. When I wasn’t drunk and when you weren’t too tired from your job we would have talks. Do you remember those long nights when we would just self disclose to each other about life, or whatever we had to talk about? We would just share our past experiences, our histories to each other. I would listen to you and you would listen to me… sometimes at least. Just the eye contact we had. Sometimes my eyes would drift lower and lower (drools on the paper), erm, ya and we would just sit there and talk, it was a nice thing. To bad all that changed.

That all just had to change though, because the night I found you messing around with George from the bait and tackle shop. I just don’t know what went wrong. I tried to use all the techniques I got from that book you gave me for Christmas, what was it? Oh, oh yah (pulls out the book) Our Sexuality by Robert Crooks, this is the one. I read some of it so I could figure out what you wanted in our relationship, I found my self starring at the pictures on page 78, and 94 more than I read the book thou. I learned from it, and I learned from my mistakes of taking that nine-inch blade to George’s neck, chest, arms, and head. That’s what I get for loosing my temper I guess. Well now I have two life-sentences to think about what I did to George, and read this here book. Maybe I will get parole in twenty years; do you think we could try for a second go at our marriage?

Till death do we part,

Bret Watkins

GRADE RECIEVED: TEACHER TOO APPALED TO GIVE GRADE.
GRADE DESERVED: A+, & BONUS POINTS FOR UPSETTING TEACHER