Whatever Pedro Primera wanted: Pedro Primera got. He was never going to get used to light pockets. Fingers interlaced as he longed for his own weapons. His hands felt empty without the leathery feel of his thick wallet.
His victims were laughing beyond the grave. Squatting to use the toilet was a foreign concept. Apparently, some countries had no concept of privacy. What a state the loos were, he covered his nose: how could anyone use them? The lack of toilet paper and small basket bins wasn't even the worst part.
Doing his business, he lowered his head, contemplating on how the world was laughing at him. He could even see himself in the mirror: it wasn't a pretty sight. The water was ice cold and the soap was covered in hairs: curly pubes by the looks of it.
Fingers interlaced, he cleaned the soap bar and took a good look at himself. Hands sunk into the sink and he washed his face. Nothing could scrub the sins away. The mirror reflected a broken man - a waste of human life.
Pedro had a special ability: to go from one woman to the next. As long as he had Mariangela when he got back home, that was all that mattered. His eldest daughter was once engaged to a man like him. The only problem was Mariangela put a stop to it. That was the beginning to all their problems.
Flicking his hands dry, he tried to think of something other than his failures as a family man. He still couldn't get over his empty pockets. Pedro dug his hands in his pockets, still expecting his fingers to stroke the leather skin. Deep pockets, thick wallets and a handy weapon or two empowered him on the streets of Italy. A thought came to him; all the millions he spent on drugs and prostitutes, he couldn't believe Mariangela stayed.
Tabloids wrote about them, tried to expose him whenever they could. Some of it was true like bumping into presidents in a brothel. Most of the time, they wrote a pure fantasy about him like the underaged girl's scandal. Anyone he slept with was well over the age of consent in their country.
Never again. It would have been much dignified to shit in a bush. He had done some dirty deeds in his time, but Pedro never felt so filthy in his life. He laid back on the grass and thought about Milan; the city he was born in and the place where he met Mariangela. With his mind on his wife, he jumped feeling his insides churn. He didn't even know if his wife was still alive.
He slapped his head and gazed at the moon. "What kind of husband am I?"
If there was any chance to apologize, he would take it. She was pretty beaten up when he left her. Walking back to where he left her went up inside the cottage. No rings, no women, only bloodstains on the stairs.
Strolling into the kitchen, he took a seat. He got an excellent view of Mt. Ivan. He was sure Sia had an older brother called Ivan, but they haven't spoken in thirty years. There was a portrait of a black man in imperial armour mounted on the kitchen walls. "I wonder what advice you'd give me?"
"Are you really talking to brick walls now?" The stern voice behind him sounded like his wife.
He stood up and faced her. "Mariangela!" He thought he saw a ghost.
"Pedro." She folded her arms, tilting her head as she smiled.
"I'm so happy to see you."
She gasped. "Really?" A moment of silence occurred when Mariangela fondled the buttons on her top. "I thought you never wanted to see me again. I thought you'd be banging other younger more beautiful girls than me."
Pedro bloated with tears, erupted with laughter. "Not since you caught me." He threw his hands in the air and sat on the chair. "I'm so sorry. I've done some terrible things. I hope you can forgive me."
"I thought you wanted to leave me."
"NO!" Pedro spat out. "NEVER! You're the only woman for me!"
"You promise you won't hurt me again."
"I promise you, starting tomorrow...I'll never betray or deceive you again. You're the first and only woman I've ever loved... and I mean it from the bottom of my heart."
All the love songs in the world thrown at her. He would do anything to earn her forgiveness. Knees even crumbled to the floor as he cuddles up to her leg like a pining pet.
Mariangela crouched down. "Why don't I make you a coffee."
"Yes!" Pedro sobbed. "I would like that." He had never shown this vulnerable side to Mariangela before so he was pleased to see it was working. He wiped the tears with his sleeves. He could brew plenty more of the time came to it. "So have you destroyed anymore robots?"
"Of course," Mariangela said, boiling the water on the pan. "Have you?"
"A couple," he lied.
"About time you did." She crafted the coffee just the way he liked it: black like his soul. "Here's your coffee." She strolled over, placing the cup on the table.
He noticed there was only one cup. "Are you not having one?"
Mariangela shook her head. "No, I've already had mine."
"You've been here the entire time."
Mariangela nodded. "I've been waiting for you, my dear."
Pedro wanted to cry, but instead, he opened out his arms. "Come here, I could touch you and kiss you all day."
Mariangela sat on his lap as he embraced her with a large hug which lead into a kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too..." Pedro whispered. "Tomorrow is going to be a brand new start. Together we'll be ON TOP OF THE WORLD!"!
"Tomorrow never comes!" Mariangela said lacking the compassionate tone Pedro held down well. Her words stopped Pedro flat as he noticed his pocket knife was missing.
Gasping, found out where the pocket knife was.
"Too bad for you," Mariangela giggled, stabbing her husband and guiding the blade into his body. "You will never see tomorrow again."
Desperate to speak but only blood emerged from his lips. Pupils dilated focused only on his wife's coy grin. She stroked his cheek for one last time. "Free at last."
Releasing the knife from her grip, Mariangela legged it. Pedro slumped to the floor, burning from the wounds in his back. A robot and its robotic pals seized the cottage, looking satisfied with Pedro.
The robot cheered to its friends. "I crave something Italian. What should I cook?"
"How about some pizza?"
Even through death, his victims will laugh at Pedro, and how his corpse became pizza toppings. Pedro went cold, limp and dead taking a lifetime of regrets with him.
Mariangela - 100 points
YOU ARE READING
Game of Mass DestructionScience Fiction
Sia Bucks hosts the Government-funded reality TV show, Game of Mass Destruction. The 30th season is about to start, and the chosen twenty are bestowed the task to destroy a thousand flesh-eating robots for a chance to win two billion dollars. Acts o...