Impostor
Humor Flash-fiction
“Jack, I wanna talk to you.”
“Yeah! I am all ears, darling.”
The bitch asks as though she won’t talk if I don’t permit.
“I consulted the Psychiatrist today.”
“Oh! That’s great baby. What did he say?”
I hope he locks you up in the loony bin forever.
“He asked me to bring you tomorrow?”
“Whaaaat! Me?”
Fuck the bloody doc. Why does that dumb-head pig wants to see me?
“Yes dear. Dr. Morris was kind enough to give us an appointment for tomorrow at 9 am. I am glad, I found the best Psychiatrist. You are joining me, aren’t you darling?”
Best? He must be a bull-shitter. You filthy-bossy woman already made an appointment, now what is it you’re expecting me to say?
Do I have any choice other than saying this?
“Of course darling.”
“Goodnight Jack.”
How could I have a good sleep when you are still alive, moron?
“Goodnight sweetheart.”
Dear God! Are you punishing me?
Every time this coffin-dodger gets onto the death-bed a dozen times a year, you pull her from the grave.
It’s not fair. I tell you, it’s not fair.
Come on God, do me justice.
She is 72-years-old and I am just 27.
Take care of my desires.
DO YOU HEAR ME?
***
“Dr.Morris, meet my husband Jack Senior.”
How dare you call me senior? Envious septuagenarian.
“I am Jack Junior. You can call me Junior.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Junior”
Curse on you, Doc.
“Me too, Dr.Morris.”
“So Junior, how long you been married to Mrs. Junior?”
“Three years.”
Seems like a thousand years. You married doc? Yeah! I bet you are. I can hear your bald head scream it...
“We are married for forty-five-years, Doctor.”
The old-bitch is lying. She is insane. Don’t trust her.
“How old are you now, Junior?”
“I am twenty-seven.”
“He is seventy-seven, Doctor”
I am going to kill this lying whore.
“Mrs. Junior. I would like to have a private chat with your husband. If you don’t mind...”
“I will wait outside, Dr. Morris.”
Yikes! Private chat? Looks like the son of bitch is interested in me. Don’t you even dare to dream about laying me, goofy-dog.
***
“What is wrong with Jack, Dr. Morris?”
“Mrs. Junior, your husband is suffering from Vicenarian-Impostor-Confabulation Syndrome.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Well! He imagines himself as a twenty-seven-year-old young man and so his heart desires for a young, beautiful and sexy woman. He thinks you are too old for him, and wants you dead. I saw his frustration that you are still alive. His patience is tiring of waiting for your natural death. I am afraid, he won’t hesitate to even kill you.”
Old-scoundrel wants me dead?
“I sympathize with you, Mrs. Junior. I am sorry that you had to go through this shit at this age. I will do everything possible to cure your husband.”
“Hell with his cure. Lock him up.”
“In the mental-asylum? But how long?”
“As long as he lives. Don’t worry about the expenses, Doc.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Junior, sorry Mrs. Senior. I will take care of it.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
*** “Hello! Mr.Junior, I am sister Lisa. I will be at your service, 24\7”
“Pleasure to meet you, Lisa.”
You heard me, God! Thanks a lot She is too hot…
