The conflicting internal observations of Carl Reuters

I do not muse. I simply drawl from between my thighs and hope that my audience is unable to tell the difference. In my case, the fact that the writer is the sole reader defeats the purpose of my small cultural rebellion.

I blame inanimate objects for my marital troubles, simply because they seem to be the only manifestations of this wretched physical world men have not thought of to use as scapegoats. In the grand scheme of things, this is of small consequence. But to me, the overwhelming logical sensibilitly of the notion is enough to keep my mind occupied for days on end.

The day Carrie filed for divorce, I was less than surprised. After all, the mundane routine that all marriages are susceptible to have finally taken their toll and formed tired rings around her ankles (housesocks have been reknowned for comfort, but in this case even they can become bothersome). I said to her, "You can keep the furniture, and the children, and my red diary. No, not the one covered in leather. The other one."

“Joke some more, Carl.”

She replied that we do not have children, and that I do not have a diary other than the one covered in red leather. Her failure to mention the furniture confirmed my suspicions that they are indeed the objects of her desire. My wood had become obsolete.

I will continue calling Carrie 'dear' and 'love' and 'sweetheart', not because I mean it - but because like a tap unable to control the rancid droplets falling from its maw, I cannot stop them spilling from my lips. I soothe the awkwardness by smiling in a whimsical manner.

"You'll miss me," I mumble impishly.

"Will I?"

Self-sufficient wench. She will miss the smell of ink as I sprawl my notebook on the kitchen table to dry. She will miss the taste of scotch and tobacco on my collarbone. She will no longer experience the same anxious thrill as I lock myself in the master bedroom to reshuffle my priorities. What has the old pleather sofa to offer, that I do not? It cannot reveal her amorous nothings for what they truly are, though granted she whispers them no longer.

_

I found this document in my school flash disk required for IT class. This is the reason why my marks are so low.