nside.

"good morning, sleepy head." he heard a soft and far away voice say.

the throbbing pain started as soon as simon opened his eyes. melisa

leaned forward and gently kissed her husband on the forehead, while her

hand ducked under the covers.

"how could you?" was all simon said, not even flinching when melisa's

cold fingertips touched his crotch.

"hey, i did everything i could last night to get you to... you know...

make love to me. i'm still horny, simon."

the pain in his temples was replaced by a dizziness as blurred images

of the scene he witnessed on the patio at the landing came back to him.

melisa's silky legs were wrapped around another man. another man's huge

hands were squeezing her tiny ass cheeks as she furiously leaped up and

down on him. another man's tongue was probing her open mouth in an eager

kiss. simon closed his eyes in torment. was it all just a bad dream? did

he only imagine that melisa had sex with someone else last night? his

wife mistook his confused look as a sign of a hangover.

"do you want something for your headache, or how about some

breakfast?" melisa asked as she slipped out of bed and threw her robe

on. "maybe after you're feeling better, we could... mess around."

"mess around?" simon said, then mumbled under his breath as she walked

out of their bedroom, "that's not what i'd call it!"

melisa was right about one thing though, simon was experiencing the

worst headache of his life. it had been a long time since he went out

drinking with the guys, and now it was time to pay the piper. his

stomach did a sudden flip-flop, and he made a mad, stumbling dash for

their bathroom.

on his knees in homage, simon had no offering for the porcelain god.

his belly was empty. all he could do was listen to his gut wrenching

prayers as they echoed around in the rotund bowl, making his head pound

that much more. his stomach began hurting from the violent convulsions

it was going through trying to present anything in praise to the short,

white deity he was kneeling in front of, but it had nothing to give.

like a rejected beggar, simon bowed his head and implored the powers to

be for mercy. the icy-cold, ceramic altar was soothing his forehead when

his silent petition was answered. the toilet seat came crashing down on

the back of his neck.

"oh, honey, are you okay?"

simon turned toward the compassionate voice he heard, and looked up

through the hallow-like hole above his head.

"my, oh, my! don't we look green." melisa said and then started

laughing.

"it's not funny!" simon groaned, half in anger, half in self pity.

"from where i'm standing, you look funny. here," melisa said as she

grabbed her husband's arm and helped him to his feet, "get back to bed.

you'll need to sleep this one off."

after making him take some asprin with a full glass of orange juice,

melisa tucked her husband into bed like a little boy.

"jesus h. christ! get your ass out of bed!" came the shout that woke

him up.

"leave me alone!" simon grumbled, not bothering to open his eyes to

see who was there.

"hey, mel, you got any coffee made?" simon's best friend bob, yelled

out.

"it should be ready in a few minutes."

"come on, those muskies are practically dying to jump in the boat,

lets go!"

all bob got was another tortured grunt.

"did simple simon have too much to drink last night? does his little

head hurt?" bob teased.

"asshole!"

"pussy!"

"double asshole!"

"weekend weed whacker!"

simon opened his eyes at his friend's last jab. he remembered it was a

derogatory nickname the locals called all the city people.

"what the hell are you doing here? it's not even..." then simon

remembered they were suppose to go fishing this morning.

"damn, what did those people on the east coast do to you?" bob said,

then quickly yanked the covers off of simon.

"hey, melisa, simon's got one of them retractable fishing rods and the

line's all tangled up! you better get in here and help this poor boy,

cause i sure as hell ain't!"

"okay, i'm up already! now get the hell out of here while i get

dressed!"

"never mind. false alarm." bob shouted.

in the kitchen, melisa sarcastically stated, "another one!"

"i need to ask you something, bob."

"no, we're not going in! i don't care how many times you throw up, or

how green you get. i'm always out here until i get my quota, so don't

ask again."

"it has nothing to do with that." simon said.

"what is it then?"

when his friend didn't answer, bob turned his head around. simon

seemed to be looking at something in the distance, so bob followed his

line of sight, and tried to figure out what it was. seeing nothing out

of the ordinary, he asked again, "well, you going to tell me what's on

your mind?"

confused, hurt, angry and still hung over, simon said, "never mind."

melisa was so startled to hear the knocking at the front door that