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"SSC7 -- Doc Spackman's Spark"

Dear Mr.Hackett,

Your wife is beyond repair. She’s insane. In recent weeks she’s even resorted to using her own faeces as blusher, eye-shadow and lipstick. Can you believe it! What a nutcase. My extensive treatments have failed. She’s gar-gar. It’s “lock the door and throw away the key” time. She’s gone with the wind. With any luck she’ll top herself, saving me the hassle and you the monthly fee.

Keep this to yourself, Mr.Hackett, but with your permission I could see to it that a razorblade is “accidentally” left behind in her cell. I’m fairly certain it wouldn’t be long before the mad dragon slices herself to shreds with it, taking into account her “loopyloo” and [quite frankly] contemptible self-image problems. Please advise a.s.a.p. She’s driving me up the wall with her constant screeching and yabbering. I can fully understand why you beat the s**t out of her.

And in a roundabout way your past violence is my true purpose of writing you. Heh, it’s peculiar how things turn out. You see, I’ve started to write again. Yes, it’s true! And it’s all thanks to you, Mr.Hackett, and to a lesser extent, your filthy wife. If it wasn’t for your utterly justified backhanded slaps, your well-aimed kicks, and your face-altering headbutts [the witch deserved it: "battery is the stepfather of sustained provocation"], the creative juices within me would never have flowed again. I truly believed I had dried up for good. But no, no, no! In my arduous and exasperating attempts to treat/cure/control your batty wife’s psychosis, I found myself seriously needing to let off steam.
Yes I could’ve unscrewed my cork by visiting Milda Maple’s five-star knocking shop [it’s located downstairs/underneath Tripotoni’s Ristorante, just in case you don’t know], and yes I could’ve chosen one of Madame Maple’s sweet young cherrypoppers, retired to her private room for an allover body massage followed by an essential-oil handshank [the best orgasm 50 spondulix can buy], and yes I could’ve toddled off home twinkling like a star over Egypt, purchased a bunch of lush roses and enjoyed second helpings with my better-half, but on how many occasions do you think I’ve done that, Mr.Hackett? Well let me tell you: exactly 577 times in the past four years. I needed something different. The hanky-panky high only lasts so long.

And then it happened. Hoopla! Torch a fackin’ wigwam! Just thinking about it makes me crazy with delight! As I sat in my Roller and triggered the security gates of my mansion [you can’t be too careful these days, the country’s being overrun by scum] - it happened! Clickety-click! Just like that, from nowhere. I just knew in my balls that I was going to write something, something creative, for the first time in two friggin’ decades! And it’s all down to you, Mr.Hackett. If you hadn’t shattered your wife’s self-esteem and sent her to nutsville by t******g the living daylights out of her over several years, and if you hadn’t dragged her loathsome and broken being to me, abandoned her at my institute and not given me the opportunity to experiment on her f*****-up mind, then I doubt very much I would have ever, EVER rediscovered my creative side again!

So, Mr.Hackett, I’m writing this letter in deep and sincere gratitude to say a big THANK YOU. Every moment of every day is now just one long tiptoe spark of sublimity! So thanks a million, Mr.Hackett. Thanks a billion! A trillion! No, you have been priceless.

Yours,
Doc Spackman.

[ps. Don’t forget to give me the green light concerning the ‘accidental” razorblade in your wife’s cell.]

Tee-hee-hee.

Brilliant.

Liked that a lot. The whole 'out of touch with reality' thing, executed really well.. Hmmm... Yay, very good :D.

I'm piggybacking on Cyclone's judging/posting spree a bit here, but I read this a while back and I should probably comment.

Well written, compelling and amusing. Fair play to you for not feeling obliged to end with a moral, twist or revelation - it works as it is and works well.

Very, very good. Hoo, this is tough.

Funny as well.

A "different" kind of story, good, but bizzare at the same time :)

mattributé wrote:
> The problem I'm having, though, is the moral or whatever behind the
> story - I know, not manhy stories have them, but this just seems like
> one that does. Am I missing something?

There's no moral to it, [at least I don't bbelieve there is] - just the nasty thoughts of a deviant mind (Doc Spackman). With writing I just start at the beginning and finish at the end, usually venturing into the hideous on the way.
And I forgot about the swearing near the end. I don't know how it got through the filter.

Thanks all.

That's awful, truely awful and sick.

Delivered in your usual impeccable style.

Absolutely brilliant, stuff like this stops me from going mad.

Well, further, something... excellent anyway :D

Well I would have entered a story as well, until I realised that Cyclone had plastered the fact that we were only allowed to contribute once in as an edit sinc ethe last time I had looked.

Tyke.

Don't get me wrong - it was fantastically written, and provided genius analysis and little touches that made it feel personal (the handjob, in particular), but, as I've said, I'm still trying to get a morale out of it.

It seems that less and less of SSC entries are stories, more like genius peices of literature.

Me too, which was why I couldn't really write a conclusion when trying to understand the story's aim.