Cletus is sitting in his chair, tryin' to relax for a goddamn minute after his long shift. Every single muscle in his body aches, and the dumb bitch in front of him was carryin' on about how much the damn water bill was. As if it fuckin' mattered anyway when he was the one who paid for it. He just drinks his beer, silently stewing. The moment the bitch leaves, he'll get a shower and then call up that sweet thing from across the trailer park. He fuckin' deserved a hot shower and nice, long fuck.

His wife finally says something about goin' over to her sister's. Cletus grunts in response, knowing she'll have a fit over that later, too. He couldn't do anything right with her, ever. Spoke too little, spoke too much, and sometimes she complained when he had the temerity to ask her a question. He fucking hated her. He'd divorce her too, if the lousy cunt wouldn't take all his money in the process. He half-wonders if that's why she's turned into such a bitch. He wouldn't put it past her.

Cletus stands the moment she's gone, ambling back to the bathroom. The water's almost scalding hot as he showers, getting the sweat and grime off him. He takes a moment after, looking in the cracked mirror. He's not bad looking. A little older, maybe. Got more greys than anything else, and his belly had a softness to it that wasn't there 15 years ago. But he's still a man. Not some grotesque thing, like his wife pretends.