Outside the boundary of constant hissing in his head, Virgil’s wife of thirty years sniffed and sneezed, farted and coughed.
Was she doing it on purpose to piss me off?! He had asked himself several times. Noise. Constant bastard noise.
He hadn’t slept for more than two hours straight without flipping to a sitting position in a panic. For several hours he had flipped at least twenty times. And now she was aggravating him on purpose.
‘IS THERE ANY FUCKING NEED FOR YOUR STUPID SHITTING NOISE?!’ He yelled, though not feeling better for his tirade at all.
‘SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE NOW, BITCH?!’ He yelled at her retreating back, as she ran to hide in the toilet. ‘YOU’VE PUT ME IN A BAD MOOD NOW!’