The X-Wife

Posted: April 14, 2011 in Short Fiction
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[Hey, this is pretty fun:  short story from first-time contributor Xavier McCaffrey.]

Because my name is Xavier, we called her the X-Wife, which seemed funny at the time. But that was before the X-Wife cut out my heart with an X-Acto knife. Maybe I should have seen we¹d be incompatible, her with her X-Box, me with my Wii.  We met at a movie with a mutual friend, ditched him, and immediately commenced an X-rated extravaganza. She went off her antidepressants, saying I was her Xanax now. Spending the rest of our lives together was a present we couldn¹t wait until Xmas to unwrap, so we married a month after we met. For a while, everyone else on earth was a foreigner, and we were xenophobes. Things went along well until the morning I woke up and realized the X-Wife had made a Xerox of herself in the night and left me with the copy. All of a sudden, her eyes were Algebra, and I couldn¹t solve for X. Her maps had changed, and I could no longer find the X marking the spot, much less access her buried treasure. Once she no longer let me flip her on her x-axis, I began to lose interest. Despite all her xxxs and ooos, I was as inert as Xenon. I lost the stick to play her xylophone. Sometimes, she said, she wished I’d been dealt the second x chromosome, not her. I insisted I still loved her, but the X-Wife had x-ray vision and could see right through me. Though her deposition was about as historically accurate as an episode of Xenia the Warrior Princess, I signed my name everywhere her attorney drew his large Xs. She smiled as if her heart were manufactured in a sweatshop in Xian, and I learned the hard way what comes after the X: the why?

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Comments
  1. Florida Gordon says:

    Xcellent!

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