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A Hard Habit to Break The taste of blood woke Bill up. He gingerly felt his jaw, then tried sitting, using the vinyl-covered table as leverage. “What’d you go and do that for, Lora?” Bill’s jaw cracked as he spoke, bringing with it more metallic-tinny taste. He steadied himself, but the blue checked tablecloth still seemed to be spinning. Lora looked at him quizzically. “You slept with my sister, Bill. What did you think I was going to do? Ask you for a threesome?” She walked over to where the salt shaker was sitting and lobbed it lazily at Bill’s eye. Bill didn’t dodge soon enough, and the cut glass pushed in his eye. A horrid squishing sound and a pop of hot fluid ran down Bill’s face. Now blind in one eye and nursing a broken jaw, he pleaded with Lora—“Please stop honey. You’re bigger than me. And stronger. Please.” The fact that he wouldn’t even answer her about her sister made Lora more than angry. Her hair, matted with splattered blood and vitreous fluid, sagged around her face. She marched closer to Bill, pulling up her size 10 boot, making him yelp. “No huns,” he slurred, “Not your sister. A sister. Sister Mary Sue-Ellen.” Lora put down her foot slowly and considered her husband’s broken face. “Well, that’s different, isn’t it, Bill? Let’s ask her for a threesome then.”
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