“So, what is the reason for divorce?”
“Reason?” she said.
“Yes. Was he unfaithful? Did he abuse you?”
“Oh, no!” she said. “He is very faithful and has never laid on hand on me.”
“Okay.” The attorney sighed, tapping his pen on the notepad. “Well, what is the reason then?”
“Annoyance.”
“Annoyance?”
“Yes, annoyance.”
“Could you please elaborate?”
“Do I have to?” Her puppy dog eyes seemed to grow larger.
“If this goes to court, you will have to be very thorough in your complaints. It’s better that you get it all out now, so that there are no surprises for me.”
She rubbed her bottom lip while staring at the floor. Then, as if a lightbulb switched on above her head she shouted, “Farting!”
“Farting?”
“Yes, he farts all the time out his ass and his mouth.”
“You mean belching?”
“He does that, too.”
“I’m confused.”
“He farts all the time out his ass and they smell horrible. Worse than anything you could imagine. When he’s not doing that, he farts out of his mouth.”
“Belching?”
“Yes, that too.”
He put his pen down, picked up and pencil, snapped it in half, then picked up his pen. “How does one fart out of their mouth and it be different from a belch?”
“Oh! I see your problem. He makes the noise. Like a raspberry.”
“Oh!” he chuckled.
“It’s not funny. He does it every time I bend over. I beginning to think that I may have a loose backside. He makes the noise every step he takes, like he’s squashing ducks beneath his feet. If he doesn’t like something on TV or on the radio or even something I say, he makes the noise.”
“I see.”
“When he does a real fart, it sounds like he’s filling his pants with liquid. Like diarrhea. But, I know he isn’t because most of the time he’s walking around naked. Cooking naked, drinking coffee naked, reading books naked. And the singing! My god, the singing!”
“Singing?”
“Yes! He sings all the theme songs from every show that he has ever watched. He even sings jingles from commercials he saw as a kid.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The worst is Cal Worthing Ford of Long Beach, we’re open til midnight, see ya here.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Are those the words to the song?”
“No! That’s the damn part that comes on after the jingle, at the end of the commercials. He sings the jingles and then speaks the words. He remembers them ALL!”
“My god…”
“Yeah. The worst part is, is the fucking story he tells me afterwards every time. You see, the song goes, If you need a car or truck, go see Cal. He thought it was, If you need a car or truck PUSSY COW! So sometimes he sings the song, Go see Cal and other times it’s, pussy cow.”
“Does he sing real songs? Like, popular songs from the radio?”
“Oh yes, constantly. The problem is, he doesn’t know the words to anything so he makes them up. So a love song is now about a pooping dog or a clogged toilet or some bitch in a car… I think I’m losing my mind! Can I smoke in here?”
“I think we should both have one.”
They both lit their cigarettes and he leaned back in his chair, blowing out a big plume of smoke, stomach cramping from holding in gas and thinking about how the theme to Facts of Life started.
