Olympic Torch.
It was night, easily suggested mostly by the lack of sunlight. The wind rustled the fallen autumn leaves through the back yard as I drove in the garage. The clanking old Toyota, which outlived its expiration date far enough anyhow, would soon meet a bitter end, as would I.
Something was obviously wrong in this scene. The door was closed, I never leave it closed. The garage/home door I lock and the actual parking space is deprived of anything to steal. The blinds were shut out. Dark golden ones, my wife picked out, now seemingly obvious why. The only light flickering through one such blind was from the upstairs bedroom.
"Don't panic. Shit...Don't panic," I soliloquized silently.
"There has to be a valid reason, probably just a burnt fuse she can't fix. Heh, of course, she always needed me for handy man work".
I turned the key, clicking the cylinders open. Something was amiss, no dinner aroma waiting in the kitchen, now cold and sterile. No jolly wife greeting me inside like an old 50's sitcom. Just emptiness waited for me, like the rime invitation of death. I walk in, and there, on my coffee table, which I paid for, were two sets of keys. I recognized one easily by the fluffy pink dice on it, the other is new, it had 2 keys on it and a zodiac sign locket by it.
Suddenly, a moan. Not a painful one, but one of pleasure, one I had not heard in some time came from upstairs. Then, the giggle of a colleen like woman.
"The hell?" I wondered absently as I surreptitiously crept up the stairs, I took my hand gun from its holster. The closer I came to the room, so did the sounds of the bed connecting with the wall, got stronger. Stronger too, was my increasing rage.
My foot rose easily to the lock section of the closed door, and swings forward, blasting the door open, knocking it against the wall.
There- there in front of me is my wife, fooling around with - with... a woman?
"Come in and join us" . My wife comments uncaringly.
My mouth was stuck in some odd bird like rictus of a shape. Here she was, my wife, a pleasant, cute and young woman, along with gorgeous bronze colored brunette wearing what I only know as a strap-on. A transparent one too. Her...well, love apples, were the most balanced I had ever seen. So attractive that God must have formed them in person. Young and filled with life. Her locks of hair lunged easily from one shoulder to another, as if a wave from the sea was caught in forced to flow forever in one spot. One zenith of beauty.
My wife was unordinarily surprised I didn't shoot her for this, and instead began undressing eagerly.
"You're joining?" my wife asked oddly, the brunette just seems to tighten her lips with craving.
"Threesome!" I shouted and hopped in like an Olympic diver on a final run. Best night of my life, best damn night of my life and the best any man can even dream of.
The next morning, as they slept silently and pleased in my bed, I brought out some duct tape and tied them. Then, I torched the fucking house.
End.
I did a little revision, trying to make it a little more complicated and add a little more depth to it. I even used a damn theasaurus. Thoughts?
