– a short snap of a tale –
She sighed as her iPhone buzzed hard enough on her desk to spin sideways. Maddy glanced at the time and just knew who texted her. Should’ve turned off all notifications, she grumbled. Diddy, her ex-husband, had texted her yet again. They’ve been divorced nearly 20 years now, remain friendly acquaintances even tho they live in different states and have two children between them. But why in hell did she ever married anyone named Diddy? What a stupid, fucking name! Of course, Diddy wasn’t his real name. Austin Willis Wallace was.
His mama used to play Bo Diddley records back when he was a little boy, however, and little Austin Willis would boogey around the house so much his daddy called him, “Diddy.” Name stuck. “Lookit Diddy go!” folks used to say. And when he grew up and married Maddy, he impregnated her. Two twin boys resulted, Dilbert and Data, named after two characters, one a cartoon and the other an android. Maddy rolled her eyes remembering her crazy youth and sighed with annoyed exasperation as her smartfone vibrated across her desk again. That goddamn Diddy!
Maddy worked as a nurse in neuro-oncology and had hoped to retire already, but having kids late in life plus the economic and financial upheavals of the pandemic, climate change, and the war in Ukraine made it imperative to keep chugging away RNing on people’s brains. She was busy, tired, had to help Dilbert pay the initial installment on his reactivated student loans, and just wanted to go home and soak in the bathtub and play with her waterproof vibrator.
OK, what the hell, Maddy decided. She reached out and picked up her iPhone. Yes, sure enough, a text had popped in from Diddy. That goddamn Diddy! What did her ex-hubby have to say this time? She clicked on the message. Continue reading