Today, your going to have a duel to the death with your crippled son.

Blasphemy in the Sky

Your sitting in the kitchen with a baby in each arm when you have an epiphany. You are miserable. This isn't the life you dreamed of when you ran away from the moral cesspool of sin that was Los Angeles and settled in Utah and met Jebediah. You had plans for your life, but now your coming to the realization that succumbing to the irresistible charm of Jeb and his bitchin' hat was your ultimate downfall.

Tabitha is sweeping around the stove. She's Jeb's Third-Wife. The only time you ever feel anything remotely resembling pleasure is when you exert your feeble seniority over her as Second-Wife. Whenever she gets too close to you,you'll snap at her like a bobcat. She'll whimper feebly and go into the living room to sob into her apron. God, you hate her.

Tabitha hasn't even had her first child yet, yet you secretly look forward to the day when she realizes that after giving birth to two sets of twins and one set of triplets, her vagoo will have all the comfort and visual appeal of a tractor tire.

Your musing over this when Jeb walks in and takes off his hat. He immediately walks over to his pipe-stand and fills his bowl with tobacco, lights it up.

Puff, puff, pass sucka. You shake your head as if to dispel the thought. Sometimes you can't get L.A. out of your mind.

"Jeb."

He turns around, holding the pipe to his chest.  This is his 'regal' stance. "Yes, my wife?"

"I'm tired of being your second-wife, Jeb. You don't appreciate me! I sit in this house all day and clean and cook while First-Wife plays bunko!" You heft the two babies to try to reposition them as you speak.  After an hour, nursing twins simultaneously feels like holding two boulders that like to yank on your breasts.

"It's your duty as set down in the word of God, my wife. We are building a new world from which all the heathens will take inspiration and repent their sinful ways."

"Yes, well I didn't know building a new world order would involve my nipples getting chewed off daily by all these damn babies."

He looks at you strangely. "Don't say words like that."

"Oh? Does that bother you? Nipples? NIPPLES!" You scream.

He recoils in horror.

"I..I had dreams! I was going to be a Sky-Writer! I was going to fly an airplane write great big words in smoke in the sky, love letters, birthday wishes, movie promotions!"

He flinches again, as if struck. "My wife, Sky-Writing is-"

"The Devil? Everything is The Devil to you, Jeb! Well, maybe there's a devil IN ME!"

You burst into tears and run out the front door, the fact you still have two babies attached to your breasts flees from your mind. You bang one of the babies heads on the doorjamb as you escape and he falls to the floor with a resounding thump.  He screws his eyes shut and tiny shrieks of pain echo throughout the house, but soon the only sound you hear is the wind in your ears as you sprint towards the highway, towards fate.

The baby named Ethan that you dropped will grow up to know that the reason he can't figure multiplication tables and walks with a limp is because his devil of a Mother abandoned him to run off and write blasphemy in the sky, and when he's old enough he'll come looking for you, his eyes full of red unspeakable hate and his bum leg dragging behind him in the dust.

Prepare yourself to duel to the death with your crippled son.