The personal life of the Warden is fraught with excitement, explosions, and madness, but also brimming with friendship, love and hooters.  Once in a while, though, some dopey punching bag tries to mess with this delicate blend of awesomeness and inevitably faces my heady wrath.  I say!  The story of one such bag begins when I happened upon a woman via a chance meeting; a woman of pure heart and gentle motives, such a woman that no man in his right mind would turn away.  Unfortunately, she was married.  This seemed to be the conclusion to a tale scarcely begun, and I accepted this with disappointment weighing heavily on my shoulders…

But wait.

I was to discover some time later on that this lovely lady, let’s call her Francine – because her real name is nothing even remotely as horrible – that Francine was unfulfilled in her marriage with Irving – not his real name either, but appropriately dorky and lame just like him – she was downright depressed, in fact.  Over the course of what must have seemed like an eternity but amounted to 7 years, their so-called union had deteriorated to the point that Irving spent more time fulfilling himself and his appetite for material possessions than his own wife.  She no longer wanted to be with him, and had decided so long before I knew her.

Why would a woman want to leave her husband of 7 years, a husband who makes thousands of dollars a month despite his own grossly lacking personality traits?  Because she can do better, that’s why.  She can do the Warden.  All night long, baby.  That’s more than I can say for you, Limpy.

Yet the problem persists.  See, Irving isn’t a man, for a man has a backbone and a set of balls, two things Irving is missing.  For all the talk he makes in bitter chatter with friends at tupperware parties over a loss that is no one’s fault but his own, the words that get back to others that know the true nature of Francine are met with harsh criticism.  In other words, he’s all talk and when people tell him to grow up and shut up, Irving backs down like the bitch that he is.

A few notable things for you to take into consideration, Irving, is that I know that you’re upset, I know that you’re feeling the sting of a woman leaving you because you took her for granted, and I know that since she did all the work around your lovely, empty home, either you’re going to be living in a filthy heap, OR actually break down and pay a housekeeper to clean up after you, laughing quietly to herself while she takes your money.

You know what that last part is like though, don’t you pal?  Despite the fact that you rake in over four grand a month, you still took money from your wife’s half of the joint bank account.  You know what kind of people do this, Irving?  Greedy scumbags who lose their wives!  Congratulations.

In addition to this, you like to spread the word that she left you for another man, inciting people to anger and distrust of your soon to be officially EX wife, even though this is false information, and in fact blatant slander.  You know what kind of people do this, Irving?  Petty, bitter assholes that lose their wives and only have all male parties now to talk shit about her, going so far as to let them change her MSN status to something offensive, and then pretend you had no control over it.  Congratulations.

Finally, one of the most despicable things I’ve had to hear about is the fact that you used a beloved pet of Francine’s against her because you knew in your heart that you had lost utterly.  The tears she cried were real, and you are no longer considered a fucking human being for what you tried to do: again, going so far as to lie to the SPCA in order to get them to accept her animals, because you knew it would hurt her.  You disgust me.  The best part is, you have allowed yourself to become a mockery of all that a man should strive to be to a woman, and not only did the SPCA tell you where to shove it, but now she has been reunited with her kitten.  You have no idea how hard I laughed when your dreams of petty vengeance in haste ended with egg on your face, you miserable pile of shit.  lol

Ah, but at least her father shares your enthusiasm for making her feel guilty for loving someone who is worth more than his bank account.  Maybe the two of you can start a pity party or He Man woman hater’s club.  Knowing that he too is a neglectful, abusive fuck, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine.

Your shame was earned, and it is truly justified.  But I’ll be sure to let you know of her fulfillment in other ways you just couldn’t manage.

- Wells

PS: Yeah, I heard about the buddy of yours who told you to “mail me a bullet” (ie: to show me he could have meant business if he wanted to).

This is my response:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! *cough* AHAHAHA!!!

This delightful nugget of information was brought to you by:  2nd in command, because it's all the power with less responsibility. Dispenser of verbal justice and handy with a game controller. More from this author

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