WINE MILF VODKA AUNT THREESOME.mov

there is a shark in the water,
swimming cool, calculated, composed down I-87.
it sports a tan LL Bean jacket, and large grey soccer mom SUV.
a glass of merlot, crammed into the cup holder, rattles with the small bumps in the highway.
the smell of organic grass-fed, farm-raised, free range blood permeates the water.
she uses her instinct and blindly swerves
to the whole foods exit.

her brother-in-law louie and his wife margaret are coming for dinner.
valerie, age 42, likens a dinner party
to medieval times dinner theatre,
which is to say that she will sever margaret’s fucking head
if she brings her march 2016 issue weight watchers magazine low fat zucchini roll ups again.

family is difficult for val.
at least she’s grateful she has two “whiz kids” ;
her daughter bethany attends bard college on full scholarship
thanks to her senior year project collecting and donating rare vinyl records to at-risk-youth.
joey is the 17th best super smash melee player in the state.
he is anemic and the browser history on the family computer is always suspiciously empty after he’s done,
but he can convert a word document into a .pdf in 30 seconds flat.
she is proud he doesn’t do sports.
she will do anything and everything to prevent him from becoming as stupid as his father, her husband, ted,
whose biggest accomplishments were a brief stint as captain of the football team in college
and sweat-staining an inkblot impression of his body onto the family recliner.
it is a miracle, she thinks, that her body didn’t reject ted’s sperm.

in the whole foods produce section, val encounters margaret examining boxes of morel mushrooms.
back in farmers market season, val sewed tacks into the elbows of her coat
for the sole purpose of elbowing anyone who stood between her and the freshest produce.
“oh, doing some last minute preparation? me too,”
margaret smiles with perfect straight teeth.
she rubs the dirt off a loose mushroom with the same invasive intimacy
as that one instagram artist who finger fucks fruit.
trying to keep her elbows affixed to her sides takes all of val’s self restraint.
she imagines margaret’s brain is the same consistency as the piss-poor fruit jello she carts around to PTA functions
as if it’s the hottest new dessert on the block, as if no one knows how to suspend fruit and gelatin,
and feels calmer.
“well, looking forward to that yummy dinner! see you tonight,” margaret winks.

joey will be top ranked in forenite one day, she hopes.

in the car again, she grips her steering wheel white knuckled
while her pilates hardened thighs grip an open bottle of merlot between them.
she speaks to herself soothingly;
“my ass is getting bigger and my love for my ted is getting smaller,
i wonder if margaret knows im fucking her husband now…
louie’s got great forearms, plus he’s the town's best plumber in a 10 mile radius—
must really love shit, being married to her.”

at home, val recycles the bottle of merlot while
holding a bottle of sherry.
she prepares to deglaze the pan but catches a glimpse of her reflection in the kettle
her skin is still tight for her age, thanks to frequent botox,
but a few wrinkles around her eyes persist.
she imagines her family drowning in them,
tiny little husband, daughter, and son, sucked into her pores, all dying
she loses herself in this fantasy for several minutes.

“oh! val-gal, u haven’t drank this much since prom night,” ted chuckles.
disappointed that ted did not in fact drown,
val is snapped back to reality.
“i see you smiling to yourself over here,” he coos, grabbing a handful of undeserved ass.
“aw, too bad you just burned the chicken, though”
the doorbell rings
margaret's voice echoes through the hallway of their modular home,
“gosh, is something burning?”

the culmination of years of crash dieting, PTA elections, 2 minute long sloppy fuck sessions with ted,
washing her son’s cum-covered socks every single day,
and committing the worst dinner party faux pas combines into pure liquid black hot filthy foul rage,
the likes of which have only been seen in the PCP-addled psychotic break made-for-tv police chase videos
that go viral exclusively on facebook.

val manages to turn off the burner before blacking out

when she comes to, she notices her left hand and chest are wet.
she then notices they’re red
“oh, I actually did it,” she feels the closest thing to happiness she can imagine.
“i killed everyone...”
she begins to sit up,
suddenly many hands are supporting her back.
“jesus, mary, and joseph, val, are you okay?”
louie, ted, and margaret hover over her
”oh no,” she thinks
“you took a big spill, there!”
”oh fuck no,” she thinks
“don’t worry, hun! i brought enough to save the dinner,” margaret’s eyes twinkled
”oh god oh fuck oh hell no god damn”
“here, sweetie, let’s get you something to eat. you’ve been working too hard.”

in that moment it dawns on her that she is covered in sherry, not blood.
she did not lose time to the whirlwind euphoria of her unplanned mass murder,
but rather she simply passed out from stress.
everyone is doing just fine. better than ever.
there is a scrabble game in progress on the coffee table and full wine glasses.
throughout dinner, her hands tremor jerkily under the table.
”this will never, ever end,” she thinks
“we should really do this more often,” ted grins.
“i love our little get togethers,” margaret laughs.

this will never fucking end.