End Kwote

After it's all said and done, life's just a bunch of kwotes

I hope you’re sitting down, I hope your content. Because this tale tells of a rather scary event. It’s a tale of love lost and a candy-sweet revenge. But for all you unfaithful ladies, it will put you on edge. It tells of a poor man who didn’t deserve his mistreatment. You might think him cruel, but his actions have good reason. It’s a tale you’ve not heard before, it’s really quite unknown. So, without further delay, this is The Terrifying Tale of Makimbo Jones.

Makimbo Jones was quite happy in life. He had a wonderful job and he loved his beautiful wife. His wife’s name was Rachel, and she was really a peach. She had hair down to her waist, colored much like the beach. Rachel moved here and there with the greatest of grace. She had movie-star legs and a delightfully thin waist. She was decent to Makimbo, and that was all that he asked. That she loved him as he loved her with a love strong and vast.

Makimbo adored his wife, and he gave her lavish gifts. He bought her diamonds fer her ears and Rolexes for her wrists. He wrote her love poetry with words like silk butter. He even played her songs on his antique guitar. Makimbo did his best to portray his intense love, for Rachel was the girl he had always been dreaming of. She was the apple of his eye, the pea to his pod. The Balboa to his Rocky, the Monet to his Claude. When Makimbo slept, he dreamed of her face. His love for her was not small, but typed in bold uppercase.

Rachel thought she loved Makimbo deep down in soul. But as it turns out, Rachel was more rancid than a five-year-old egg roll.

Despite her kind husband, Rachel was not appeased. Makimbo, though caring, was not as handsome as she pleased. His skin was pale as egg whites, and his arms were like a lizard’s. His legs were long and gangly, and his beard was like a wizard’s. He was an odd-looking man, that was for sure, but he loved Rachel with a love that was enormous and pure. That should be enough, wouldn’t you think? For a man to love a woman with love like everlasting ink?

For sour Rachel, that just didn’t suffice. She wanted to bed a man who looked handsome and nice. So one night, after Makimbo made her dinner, she snuck out into the dark, in search of a fellow sinner.

After entering a bar full of miscreants and lowlifes, she found who she was looking for, a good-looking man named Timothy McNotbright.

The two hit it off, and Rachel said “Let’s go.” Timothy asked, “To a hotel room?” but Rachel said, “No, in my home.”

So they drove back to where Makimbo was sleeping, where he dreamed of his wife and the love his heart was keeping. They snuck in the front door, careful as could be, and they went to the couch and got to work hastily.

Their passion was high and their breathing was deep. Their limbs were entangled like wires in a heap. They kissed long and hard, and Rachel didn’t feel bad. Makimbo was nice, but he didn’t have what Timothy had.

While the two did more than kiss, Makimbo rose from his slumber. He wanted to get a midnight snack, a piece of cheese, or maybe a cucumber. So he rubbed his eyes and stepped out of bed, clueless to what was going on just ahead.

Makimbo went down the stairs, staying quiet the whole way. Rachel and Timothy didn’t hear him, they kept having their roll in the hay. But when poor Makimbo walked past the living room, he saw the two doing what no two should do. It really made him quite blue. And his anger grew. It grew and grew until Timothy said, “See you later.” Then he bolted out the door and drove away fast in his Chrysler.

Makimbo couldn’t speak, he was really that mad. But sour Rachel said to him, “Is this really that bad? Can you blame me for this, strange-looking Makimbo? I think I’ve done what any sane woman would do.” This didn’t help matters, it only made them worse. In his head, he was steaming. Makimbo did his best not to curse.

Rachel just laughed and pulled her shirt over her head. She walked right past poor Makimbo and went to sleep in their bed.

Makimbo clenched his fists, all these years he’d been mislead. After steaming for a while, all he could say was “I want that woman dead.”

So he went outside and devised a plan of debauch. “I’ll show that bitch what’s on my mind with this heavy, jagged rock.” He took the rock in his hand and made his way inside. “You did me wrong, my dear Rachel, now it’s time for you to die.”

He went upstairs to find her sleeping in their bed. He lifted the rock high, and caved in sour Rachel’s head.

One blow would have done it, the rock was heavy and large. But Makimbo was hungry for more, he craved his sweet revenge. So he lifted up the rock again, and bashed away at Rachel’s fragile head. He bashed and he bashed until almost nothing remained. Where there was once a head, there was no more, only blood and bits of brain.

When the job was done, Makimbo felt much better. There was but one thing left to do, and first he had to write a letter.

A letter to his family, explaining these events, and why he must now kill himself, because his life and love were now spent. Rachel was his everything, and she betrayed him so. He knew he wouldn’t love again, and that was a life he’d rather not know.

He finished the letter and placed it on his desk. Then he hung himself high, wearing his best dress pants and dress vest. He hung for a while, it was agonizingly slow, but his breathing became short, and he let his life go.

Dead was poor Makimbo Jones.

But alas my fine friends, on the story goes. Makimbo’s earthly life was over, but he lived on as a ghost.

When he passed to the next life, Makimbo remembered. He recalled that bad night and his wife’s bad behavior “It is my mission, ” said the ghost of Makimbo, “to find more of these nasty, unfaithful women. Find them I will, that I solemnly swear. I’ll crush their head’s too, if to cheat these women dare.”

Makimbo journeyed on as a transparent soul. He found those unfaithful women, and he achieved his gruesome goal. If he came across a cheater, he crept in while they were alone. He snuck up to their bedsides and crushed their heads with his stone.

And on goes the story of this horrifying spirit. He seeks out these women, and these women, they get it. They never see him coming, really, they’re doomed. There’s nothing that can stop Makimbo from entering their rooms. And bringing them gloom. And making their heads go boom.

Thus ends the tale I’ve set out to tell. I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and I hope it serves you well. Just you remember, all you ladies out there, to love you man as he loves you, and to cheat, don’t ever dare. Because if you do, yes, it’s true, you’ll meet a gory demise. You’ll have your heads smashed to bits for being unfaithful and unwise.

Just be kind, loving and good, don’t leave your man alone. For if you do, yes, it’s true, you’ll learn first hand of The Terrifying Tale of Makimbo Jones.

End Kwote

Have a thought? Want to comment? Well you can do it. Right here. In this comment box.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

The Best Advice So Far

Thoughts on Living Like It Matters

Drew Chial

Advice for writers, stories about the world they live in.

Call Me Incorrigible

Rainbows, I'm Inclined To Pursue

Taking Words for a Stroll

Original poems for the young at heart

Cease, Cows

After it's all said and done, life's just a bunch of kwotes

Message in a Bottle

Swimming in Big Chunks of Truth

%d bloggers like this: