"Like Father, Like Crimson"

"I took a dump in your shower," said Crimson Dominic, wiping his ass on a dishtowel. He ran it past his face breathing deeply. No one loved the smell of his or her own shit more. She was still sprawled on the bed mourning the loss of more intimate times. There was the sound of glass breaking from the kitchen and a moment later, "you're out of milk."
There are many qualities that separate us from animals. In the case of Crimson Dominic it was either a restraining order or a condom. As with all people, he wasn't that simple to classify. What can sometimes feel like multiple opposing personalities are all driven by the same goal. However when a man cannot tell the difference between opinion and knowledge, between what is important and what he thinks is important, then it is unlikely that he will make an effort to truly understand who he is. Dominic instead put his complex brain to other uses, developing an equation for exploitation.
She wasn't thin or beautiful. She hated herself more than she would ever tell anyone. Sometimes when she was alone, she would cry and curse God and rage, and spit with fury and self-pity because she had no one who loved her. He could feel it, like it was something tangible. A noose of anguish and despair that he would use to strangle her.
It didn't take much effort to get into her bedroom; she was hideous. Any port in the storm thought Crimson. Only there wasn't a storm.
"I have a girlfriend."
If it ain't kin, stick it in.
"Crimson, what?"
"I have a girlfriend."
"No," she said sitting up on the bed.
"For fuck sake Crimson."
"Carol."
"For fuck sake."
"Carol."
"Damnit Crimson." Silence.
"Are you engaged?"
"No," replied Crimson.
"Is she pregnant?"
"No," snorted Crimson.
"Where is she?"
"She had to go to a with her friends from work. She is staying at my parent’s house tonight. She thinks I'm on a job."
None of this mattered and Crimson knew it. The putrid bitch would have to put up a fight or she would look like the fat whore she was pretending not to be. Truth be told, he had only said it because he knew it would mess her up. Watching her squirm was foreplay.
He lay on top of her rolls of fat and pawed her mouth open with his stubby fingers. Licking the sweat from between the folds of her chin, he felt hair stubble and imagined he was tonguing a cat. He took great mouthfuls of her breasts or her elbows, he couldn't be sure. Skin was everywhere and the sickly vinegar smell of body odor hung over them like murder. They groaned and rolled and vomited their illicit passions. After, Dominic lay on his side facing away from her.
Unaccustomed as she was to optimism, Carol occasionally allowed herself slivers of hope. They had shared something special, an intimate moment that connected them. He would understand how she felt.
"There is this idea that I studied in college. It says that when you study something, it changes. You can't know its true nature because just by looking you affect it. I always thought that counted for something." She was almost whispering now. “If our perception actually changes reality then maybe that means we're important, that we matter."
He heard her swallow heavily, her words tied up in emotions.
"Crimson, what do you think?"
"Are your nails trimmed?"
"Yeah." The word came from her mouth softly.
"Stick a finger in my ass."
As the unfortunate digit was wrapped in shit and flab, he was wrapped only in the infinite wonder of himself.
Night blended into a splendid dawn. The canvas sky orange and red. Life stirring into a fresh world to explore new moments the virgin day would bring.
"Crimson, get your dick out of my face."
"Sorry, I thought it was your ass," he spat pulling away. His time was up, just one more scar to leave.
"Will you call me?"
Crimson was already at the door. "Call you what, a frigid bitch?" And he was gone. That would eat at her like stomach cancer and next time he could be sure that she wouldn't be so fucking prude.
Within an hour, the fat cheating bastard was lightly knocking on the door of his parent’s spare bedroom.
"Open up, this is the smile police," said Crimson.
"Come in," replied a soft voice, worn thin with a night of excess.
"Ma'am," said Crimson standing at the door, his hands planted on his hips, "I'm afraid you’re going to have to turn that frown upside down."
"I'm hung over you bastard," she said playfully.
"Have a good night?" he asked gathering up her clothes and putting them on the bed.
"I don't remember."
"Well get up, and when your ready come downstairs and I'll have breakfast ready, okay babe?
"Hmmm."
He was already at the door when she said, "Crimson, I love you."
He turned and smiled, "You'll love me even more when you see breakfast, now get that gorgeous face of yours out of bed."
"Jesus, that girl of yours was a mess last night." Crimson's dad was on his hands and knees sniffing at the kitchen floor. "I had to help her into bed." He swept his palm underneath the old armchair that decorated the corner of the room. "She kept saying, "Crimson this, Crimson that." He picked up the dog's basket, threw a glance underneath and replaced it.
"She was drunk as a stone in a whiskey barrel." His dad dissected the couch but found it a wasted effort.
"She loves me," smirked Dominic as he read the newly received text message.
"I'm so sorry about this morning, can we meet again? I want to make it up 2 u."
But his dad had wandered off and in his place stood his grinning girlfriend twitching with a nervous energy.
"Crimson, I think I'm pregnant,"
Abortion, miscarriage, stillborn, fetus cat food, bitch, baby cancer, fucking bitch, baby jam, dead baby, dead baby, die you fucking bitch, mistake, cot death, thought Crimson.
"W-what?" said Crimson.
"Look," she said holding out her hand, "These were in my uterus."
"Your what?"
"In my vagina, look."
"Look in your vagina?" He was almost hysterical.
"At my hand."
Three white solid objects lay in her palm.
"Teeth," she declared, "I think they're baby teeth!"
"Oh great, you found them," Old Daddy Crimson smiled revealing the black gaps in his mouth. "Where were they? I thought one of the cats had 'em for breakfast."
How can you know what someone is thinking, what they're goal is? Start by knowing what your goal is. Crimson Dominic shook his head in disbelief. He didn't see it.
"I had to help her into bed."
"She loves me."
He didn't see that they were both doing the same thing.
Bragging.