Tag Archives: fight

The Gorilla Habitat

“The kids would have loved these guys,” she said to her husband, drawing his attention to the two gorillas sunning in their habitat. He walked up and snapped a shot with his Ansco Color Clipper.

“So would your father!” he added.

She gave him a nasty look. “That’s not funny.”


“Comparing mother to a gorilla. It’s not funny.” She frowned but he smiled.

“I wasn’t, I just thought he’d enjoy them,” he replied with a sinister smile.

“Mother is not a gorilla.”

“Of course not, dear,” he said, pulling her toward him and holding her.

She pouted a bit and stepped out of his embrace.

“It says here,” he read to her from the placard in a lame attempt to change the subject, “Gorillas are the largest and most powerful of the manlike apes.”

“Are you going to say something about my mother’s size and power?”

“Of course not, dear. I adore your mother.” She crossed her arms and continued to look away from him and in the direction of the animals. He pulled out a list.

“So, do we continue from here to the campgrounds like your folks did? I know you want to keep with their itinerary. Says we go from here to camping near Disney World. I packed the tent…”

He walked up behind her and put his arms under hers, squeezing a bit until she giggled. He took that as a sign of forgiveness.

“Sure. First let’s stop by the souvenir shop. I want to find a post card to send the kids.”

“Deal. Lead the way, beautiful,” he said as he offered his arm.



“Sometimes I swear you’re so negative you might be anhedonic.”

“What?” he asked me with a sullen look on his face.

“You can’t even be happy over the little things, simple everyday items. Like – what’s your favorite food?”

“You know it’s pizza. Come on.”

“What did we have for dinner?”

He sighed and looked away.

“Well? We had pizza. From your favorite place. Where the sauce is on top of the cheese. Did you say anything positive while we ate? Afterwards? Anything?”

He continued to look away.

“I swear I can’t take much more of this. I’m not even sure you enjoy having sex with me. When was the last time you put the moves on me? Do you even know?”

“Sure, it was last week. After your cousin’s birthday party.”

“That was two months ago. Two. Not a week.”

He looked out the window at a car passing by. He turned his attention back to me.

“What did you call me earlier?”


He opened his laptop and started typing.

“Are you Googling it?”

“No. Yeah.”

I smiled a little despite myself. “Well I can save you time. It basically means you don’t have the ability to experience pleasure in the normal, everyday things human beings enjoy. It’s a sad way to go through life. You weren’t always like this.”

He closed the computer and looked me in the eye for the first time in a while.

“Maybe I was faking it when we met. Maybe I have always been like this. What do you know? I could be the world’s best actor.”

“Could be, I guess.” I looked away, out the window at a couple walking by and holding hands. “I think I want out. I can’t date someone like this. You sit around, you do nothing but wait for me, and you don’t attempt to make yourself happy. I try all the time. I surprise you with pizza, I force you to go for walks – even when our friends come over to play games you’re miserable and barely speak.”

He frowned again, got up from his seat, and went to the fridge. He opened it, looked around inside, and stood there with the door open.

“What were you looking for?”

“I dunno. Nothing.”





I tapped my fingers on the table as he shut the door and returned to his seat.


He’d just returned from the market, and she was rooting through everything.

“You’ve gotten everything on the list?”

He looked away as if he hadn’t heard.


“What?  Yeah.”

“Okay, good.”  She placed everything on the counter: the artichoke hearts and cheeses on one side, and the baking ingredients on the other.

“Is there another bag?”

“Nope.  That’s it.”

She started sifting through the different items, searching.



“Where’s the rhubarb?”

He looked down at the linoleum floor, avoiding eye contact.

“Where’s the rhubarb?”

He tried to look away, but she followed his gaze.

“Did you forget the rhubarb?”

“Can you stop saying rhubarb?” he asked.

“Where is it!?!”

“Okay, well, I didn’t want to tell you, but I have no idea what rhubarb is. So no, I didn’t get it. Can’t you make the pie without it? I’ve never even heard of it; how important can it be?”

“You want me to make rhubarb pie without the rhubarb?” Anger was in her voice. He looked away again.

“Um…yeah, that probably wouldn’t make sense.”

“Well? Why didn’t you just ask someone!”

“Ask them what rhubarb is? I didn’t want to look stupid, that’s why!”

“What is this, like asking for directions?”
“No,” he said defensively.

“Wait, you DO ask for directions!  What the HELL?  Why didn’t you just ask someone what rhubarb looked like! Or where they had it!”

“I looked all over the damn produce section, and couldn’t find it! What did you want me to do? Magically learn what it was?”

“Well, did you ask someone?”

“Yes.  I asked the man who worked there.  He didn’t know what it was either.”

She put her hand on her hip and gave him an angry look.

“Okay, that was a lie.”

“Wait, why didn’t you just call and ask me what it was?”

“I thought you’d make fun of me.”

She grabbed at her hair, pulling it a little, and growled. He tried to leave.

“Where are you going now?”

“I was going to Google rhubarb so I’d know next time.”

“Aren’t you afraid Google will know what a dummy you are?”

He stopped in his tracks and cringed a little.  She knew how to insult, that was for sure.

“No!” he said in a childlike voice as he ran from the room.

Inspired by the word rhubarb, sent to me by Elle.