New Wife: Bobby One

[Bobby One’s diary, addressed to his younger brother, who died in 1940.]

Dear Virgil,

The Bitch is back. I am not free of this accursed shrew. I had a recess from her but I have been summoned to come back. Though I am unhappy, she is glowing and serene. She didn’t even notice that Ray-Ray was happier to see Diane than her, nor did she complain that Terry wasn’t girly enough. She didn’t even care that she broke out in spots! I think that mountebank doctor of hers is to blame for her good mood.

She came home telling stories of him, saying that he liked to do this type of queer exercise called “pilates.” He sounds just like her insane father. Despite his eccentricities, and the fact he is a former member of the National Socialist Party of Germany, she thinks he is a better man than me. I am sure he is about as much of a man as you are, my little baby brother. Still, he probably got over his disgust of the female body to make me the cuckold. Every man always does when the Bitch gets her hooks in them.

Of course, she also complained about Mattie, saying Mattie was always smoking and ran out of cigarettes and went into a frenzy. She talked about how smoking is a disgusting habit that ages you. Not like the Bitch isn’t on amphetamines, and I don’t think she packed enough of those pills for a month. She is a disgusting hypocrite, like always. Mattie is far more of a woman than she is, and that lazy Harry is more lucky than he thinks. Oh Mattie, with her thick thighs rubbing together and ample buttocks, running up and down the stairs to serve her invalid man. If only I had that.

Mattie is a lot like the fiancée I reneged on when Betty came along. I remember that engagement party in San Francisco, with the family I thought would replace my horribly cold family in Virginia. Matilda was shy and had to retreat to her bedroom. Then came my Standford friend, with this beautiful, but mediocre, Hollywood actress, who he hoped would make me jealous. Cupid’s arrow fired for me when she explained that she would be a much better wife and hostess than my beloved Matilda could ever be, and that a handsome, charming, and intelligent man like me deserved the presidency. I broke my contract with my fiancée on the spot. It wasn’t her looks that attracted me; though I’d never let her know, vain as she is. I am like you, in that I am cursed to be attracted to something white men should not be attracted to, though it is not a Peccatum illud horribile, inter Christianos non nominandum.^[1]

Indeed, I have been suffering through this attraction during this time of captivity with her. Oh, my Belulah, the lamp of my house! As stately and dark as a Magnolia tree, I wish to rest in the shade of her thick, thick branches. She endeavors to do so much around the house and she never has a slanderous word for me. Unlike the Bitch, whose cruel words never end. When I’m with Belulah, I feel like I’m with our old mammy, Priscilla. You might think you were a prince, since you had the love of our mother, but I was a king when she let me under her enormous dress. She said I had a huge pecker for a white boy. But tragically, she passed away from old age, or was sent away, I am not sure what happened. Yet, now I am reunited again with her, in Belulah! Excelsior! If I did not have a Catholic wife and I did not care about society, I would take Belulah to Washington DC and sign the matrimonial papers right away! Still, I would be disgusted to have her children sit in classes with my Ray-ray and my Terry. Especially dear, virginal Terry!

So instead, I stay here in Northern Virginia, as my wife goes on to seduce Jake. We already had to leave Richmond because of the man she seduced who divorced his wife for her. If I do ever divorce, the co-respondent list will go on forever. I do not even know why she bothers to sleep with other men, when during the act she just lies there like a catfish in mud. That is, when she isn’t trying to do what she calls fellatio. My pecker is sore from tonight’s attempt. Does she put on a better performance for them? Would she be that way with Dr. Engelbert and Jake, though they are a full inch shorter than me? If only I knew.

As terrible as my life is, I can feel assured I am not in Hell, like you. I was not torn apart by urchins in some god-forsaken street in Brazil.^[2] I did at least have one term in the Virginia Senate, while you never got into the Homintern, despite all of your “poetry” and pedestry. And even as far as I feel from my lawful wife, we still have in common that we loathe and hate our beloved perfect siblings. I hate you, Virgil, and she hates Mary. She would never admit it, but she hates Mary with every fiber of her being.

I also feel assured perhaps that Dr. Engelbert did perform a miracle and Betty shall be the perfect wife that she thinks she is. She shall be beautiful, submissive, and loving one day. I am doing better than that one soldier, Calvin Rotter, who defecated in his pants after taking her out for Mexican. Wonder what ever happened to him?^[3]