Counting Down The Days - totally need to turn this thread into some kind of something, a bit Chekhov

Pop on the kettle, I'm headed home.

• • VJ
    I'm sick of your insane demands
    

    
    
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    See this is exactly why I work late honey, I've just had enough, is it so much to ask that when I come home after a hard days work to put food on the table for you and the kids and make sure you've never wanted for anything in your life that I get a nice warm cup of tea when I get home. Jeez.
    
    
  • VJ
    I've gone apeshit and buried the tea in the garden. Why do you leave me at home all day with these precocious little brats?! I hate their accents and the way they wobble around my living room. I want to be free, FREE to dance and stick class As up my bum! Is it really so difficult for youself-important patriarchal cunts to understand a these basic female needs?
    

    
    

    
    
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     Now come on darling thats completely unfair, you know I tried my best to support you getting into the academy but it's hardly my fault you had two left feet, I always warned you to practice more or at least take up singing or improv classes to broaden your skill set. As for the kids it's not my fault that you were to coked up in our former years to remember your contraceptive pill, and if they're brats it's only because you always appease them and let them get their own way because you can't be bothered to put your foot down. As for their accents it was your own caprice to leave them with that Romanian house maid, she cost an absolute fortune, but did I say a word about it? No, even when she raided the cabinet for my 35 year old single malts and topped then up with water as though I'd never notice. Horrendous woman she was.
    
    Yes, you made our cold, cold, desolate bed and now I'm the one who has to lie in it. We both do darling, so we might as well make the best of what we've got.
    

     
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    Alas I remember all to well those endless days when we were young, and innocent and in love and never had to ask anything more out of life than those eternal walks through the park in summer time, our hands clasped inseparably together.
    
    You used to laugh at my jokes back then, however frivolous they were. Now you just snort and make snide remarks.
    
    Ah to be back in those days, when you smiled that glorious smile I knew I gave you butterflies in your stomach, and the mere notion in turn gave me butterflies in mine.
    
    That was before you lost your looks of course. Yes, you let yourself go the moment you cleaned up trading in one vice for another. You no longer felt the need to inspire my attentions clearly, and on the rare occasion you did let me make love to you it was more like going through the motions, putting coins into a machine to keep the music playing, satisfying a basic need. No, there was no love being made then, none at all, but it was at least better than what passes between us now. How was I to guess the woman I worshipped, my sun and my moon and my very northern star, could turn out to be such a soulless, soulless, godless harpy? God forgive me for saying so.
    
    I've turned old, and I'm dull. I've lost whatever limited intelligence I once may have had, and what's more I'm hopeless. Not even I have hope for myself now. I'll never know
    the feeling of what it is to be alive again. Not likely.
    
    I'm just counting down the days now. Counting down the days.
    
    Finn Townsley If you had only listened to me Antony, back when we strolled the streets and the name Victoria had never even entered your mind. A free spirit you were back then, a little dove caught in the up drafts of lust and life. Intelligence and women abundant had you those days, and when the wine flowed free and the fragrant summer air rolled off the hills and made hearts leap and minds soar we would head out unto the town. Drink and dance we did, making much merriment and speaking of lofty things as we enriched the lives of those around us.
    
    Finn Townsley  
    But then, on that fate-full night, when your eyes locked across the room and I felt a piece of your soul go forever. Her stare captivate you my friend, and the man I knew was over come by giddy passion. "Be on your guard dear Antony," I said as we strolled lazy down the banks of the river one afternoon "for she is a pretty poison, a sweet scented devil, and I know you may for now think she is a very goddess come to earth, the Helen of our time. But be not foolish as was Agamemnon, and squander your kingdom for your bride, for there is so much promise in a spirit such as yours, and to see it drained by this harpy would truly break my heart." Ah, if I could turn back time, the things I would have shown you, but alas you were proud and reckless. You shrugged of my concern and day by day waste in front of this opiate of a woman.
    
      Finn Townsley  
    But now, what have you become my friend? The husk of a shell and nothing more, for if what I witnessed done to a great mind is love, then I shall have no part in it! Will this travesty ever again share in the sweet bounty of Eros, as the raven quoth, never more. But my friend there is still time, spare thy farthing from Charon's hand and trade it for an ale instead. Return to our haunts, dear Antony, although we are richer in years, neither you nor I are passed this hills crest yet. We will once again return to the lives of men with a future and goal, a life of freedom and pleasure. Spare not another thought on that harpy Victoria and return to the true companionship of a brother in arms.