B. CRAIG GRAFTON - A SPECIAL PLACE

   I took to writing stories about a little over a year ago for something to do while recovering from a broken foot. I've had about thirty published here and there. They have appeared in Romance Magazine, Heater, The Flash Fiction Press, The Fable Online, Frontier Tales, Clever Magazine, The Zodiac Review, Fear of Monkeys, Abbreviate Journal, and The Texas Writer's Journal Quarterly.

   

                                                 A Special Place In Hell
 

    “Did you know dear that there’s a special place in hell for women like you dear who don’t support women.”
    “Where’d you come up with that one?”
    “It’s right here on the internet. It says that women who don’t support women candidates have a special place in hell reserved for them. A woman said that,” the male of the pair stated knowing that it would get a rise from his female mate.
     “Let me see that please,” she asked reaching for his Samsung notebook.
     He handed it to her and she and started reading the article. Her husband blathered on. “Well if it’s on the internet it has to be true doesn’t it? Some old bat named Madeleine Alright said it.” He purposely mala propped her name knowing that it would irk his wife some. “She use to be our country’s U.N. ambassador or something. She’s one of those intellectual type women. Knows everything about everything and what’s good for everybody. And since she knew what was good for our country and the world when she was ambassador she’s got to know now what’s good for women too right? Like it’s good for some women to burn in Hell.”
       The wife finished reading. “Christ on a crutch. Women like that give women a bad name.” She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. “All this political nonsense why it’s the height of stupidity. Why in the world the press would take that old fool seriously is beyond me. Anybody in their right mind can see that it’s nothing but just another political propaganda piece. Makes you realize how effed up the news media is.” She handed him back his Samsung, picked up her own and went back to surfing the net.
     “You know I bet that there’s a special place in hell for men that don’t support men candidates,” her husband continued. “I’d like to see the press should do a story about that. Only they’d do it differently of course. I can just see them now reporting on some male politician getting up there spouting to the press that men must vote for men or burn in hell. They’d run it as a male chauvinistic pig sexist story. You just wait and see though, I betcha that they’ll run a story about some African-Americans saying that African-Americans must vote for African-Americans or else they’ll burn in Hell. Or some Hispanic saying vote Hispanic or burn. Hispanics are all Catholics you know and those Catholics are really scared to death of going to Hell. That will get them to vote straight. Straight Democrat that is. You know there’s lots of stories they could do, gays for gays, transexuals for transexuals, muslims for muslims. The press could even report that a muslim man wouldn’t get his seventy two virgins if he didn’t vote for a muslim. Don’t have to worry about women muslims though because they can’t vote in their own countries and muslim men won’t let them vote here either. Yes there’s a gold mine of stories out there just waiting for the press to milk them.”
     “Knock it off!” she shouted. “That’s enough! You’re just being silly now so just drop it dear! I can’t take any more of your blathering. It’s bad enough that the news media is stupid. But I shouldn’t have to put up with to a stupid husband too.” Her eyes shot darts at him hoping that her burning glare would be warning enough for him to back off. She wanted to go back to her own world on the net, choosing what stories she wished to read, undisturbed by him.
      But nooooo! He being a man, he couldn’t resist. He couldn’t let this die just yet. He had to get it just one more cutesy inane remark even though he knew that he would pay dearly for his insolence and that it was suicidal to do so.
       The death wish took control of his brain as he blurted out, “You know I should hold a press conference and announce: “Old generic white men like me should only vote for other old generic white men. That way they can’t accuse us of being racist or sexist if it's okay for women to vote only for women, blacks for blacks, gays for gays, etcs for etcs, can they?”
    “Enough dear,” she repeated through gritted teeth, the steam rising from her head, her jaw firmly clenched, her eyes glued to her computer.
       But it was too late for him to stop now. The runaway train had been set in motion and the wreck was about to happen. “Yes us old white men deserve our special place in hell too you know.”
     “Why that’s nice dear and makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. But I’m sure that there’s a special place in Hell for you.”
     “Well I know where that would be.”
     “And where would that be dear?”
      He knew that she’d rise to the bait. His face was all aglow as he answered. “Why right next to you of course.” He bolted from his chair and flew out the door. It never hit him in the butt as he was far down the street when his wife slammed it shut. He suddenly had gotten the urge to take a walk, a very, very, long walk.