I live in a constant state of terror. My life is constantly threatened and I am only safe at school, where I am too ashamed to speak out about the abuse I receive at home. My wife, having both Irish and Scottish ancestors, has a temper of legendary proportions. She has deep red hair that seems to ignite with an internal flame as her anger rises and spills out into the physical world in the form of verbal and non-verbal cruelty directed at me.
Recently, for seemingly no reason at all, she informed me I was a “doody mahoodie.” I responded with, “Oh yeah. Well, you’re a doody mahoodie with a dirty patootie.” Her reply, which I was quite impressed with, was “Well, you’re a doody mahoodie with a dirty patootie and a pony named Judy!”
Not wanting to be outdone I shouted “Well, you’re just a mean old woman!” The onslaught I faced was unlike any my imagination could conjure. Such a torrent of slapping accompanied by girlish wailing the world has never seen. I tried to hide myself under a layer of pillows and blankets yet foolishly left one of my feet exposed. She grabbed my foot and pulled me crying from under my protective layer and slapped every inch of exposed skin until a pink glow filled the room.
I was left lying on the bed, my skin too raw to move, sobbing quietly until sleep overtook me. The next day at school, when my classmates asked me where my bruised and sunburned look came from I thought of my wife and hurriedly responded, “I fell down the stairs.” It’s just safer that way.