“I have no idea how many times she came. There was one point at the end there, where she was going on and on. That’s when she passed out.”
I’d had enough. I tipped back my glass and swallowed the last of the beer down. It tasted like bile. I took the empty glass over to the bar and laid it on its side in the universal sign — in Australia, at least — that I’d had enough. I then pulled out my wallet and extracted my bowling club membership card. Holding it out towards the barman, I tore it in half and in half again before dropping it beside my glass.
I then turned to look at the group gathered around the raconteur. There were ten of them, not counting the story-teller, which meant that seventy per-cent of them had already fucked Marleen and the other thirty per-cent wanted to do so. In addition to my boss, there were two elected local politicians in the group; one of whom was the deputy mayor. I knew that he was incapable of doing the deed but was experiencing the thrill of fucking Jimmy Brown’s wife vicariously by listening to the cowboy’s story.
I stared each one of those in the group in the eye and held each of them until they looked away. Even my boss, who considered himself to be a strong negotiator was unable to hold my gaze. The only one who didn’t blink was the cowboy, so I started on him.
“You had better keep your eye on your rear vision mirror, you gutless little prick,” I said to him, keeping my eyes locked onto his. “You destroyed a man tonight. Up until ten o’clock, he thought he had something to live for. Even though he knew his wife didn’t love him, he loved her. But now, you’ve taken even that away from him.
“He’s a great deal stronger than any of you know, however. And, while you’ve taken away the one thing he lived for, you’ve given him something in return. Hatred. He won’t rest until he’s destroyed each and every one of you.
“And you, little, big man,” I said, still holding the fucker’s gaze, “he’ll come after you first. Before he’s finished with you, you’ll tell him who else was here tonight and who put their hands up in acknowledgement of having fucked his wife. And once he’s finished with you — and if I know him as well as I think I do, you’ll be begging for him to put you down by then — he’ll come after the seven of you who raised your hands tonight.
“From each of the seven, he will extract the names of those others who have cuckolded him and on it will go until he has cleaned the slate. But you, my friend, you will be first. Your end won’t be quick, and it won’t be without pain, but you’ll welcome it when it comes. The thing is, though, you won’t know when it will come. It could be tomorrow. It could be next week. It could be next year. Or the year after, Or the year after that. He’s like a Chinaman and has a long memory.
“However long it takes, when something happens to any of you, the others will always wonder if Jimmy Brown had a hand in it. If one of you dies, the others will question whether it was really due to natural causes or an accident, or did Jimmy Brown make it happen? What each of you has done to Jimmy Brown will remain with you for the rest of your miserable lives; or what’s left of them.”