Tuesday morning. It was almost six. Most people jump out of bed on a day like this and rush to work. Marian Hadyniak did something different that day. He got up, put on his boxer shorts—he didn't care that he'd been wearing them for six days now—and looked at the bed.
"Stupid, disgusting cow!" he hissed through his teeth. Marian was an unusually calm man; he wouldn't even hurt a fly, but lately he'd been hearing a strange voice calling in his head. In the park, in a bar, in church (though he rarely went there), everywhere he seemed to hear clearly: "Bitch! She wasted your life!"
Marian was jolted from his deep thoughts by a sound he hated, a sound so horrific that whenever Marian was allowed to hear it, he was always overcome with terrible fury—it was a sound that dug deep into Hadyniak's brain, Marian felt it rip open his skull—it was the sound of a buzzing fly. Marian took a slipper and slapped a fly that happened to land on the windowsill with all his might. The effect was astonishing – a disgusting, bloody, nondescript stain.
The newly minted murderer started work at seven, but that day Marian had no intention of going to work; he planned to wander around the city for eight hours and ponder his hopeless, stupid life. Besides, Marian hadn't had a job since yesterday; he'd quit, which was the most beautiful experience for him since he'd sweared at his teacher back in high school. He still remembers those beautiful words: "Do you know where my stupid house is? Kiss my ass, you nasty bitch!" Young Hadyniak, and old too, would never have dared to say such words if it weren't for the fact that he held his high school diploma in his hand. Hadyniak had always been a coward. But yesterday he behaved like a true man. He entered the boss's office, slammed the door, and greeted him beautifully:
"Hi, you idiot!"
"Please? Hadyniak, aren't you forgetting yourself?" The boss's surprise was immense.
"No, you faggot who stinks of herring and geriatrics!" Marian's voice trembled, not from fear but from surprise that he knew such colorful and wonderfully sounding bouquets.
"Hadyniak? Did you hit your head or something? Didn't your wife tell you you were aggressive? If I hadn't always had a soft spot for you, he wouldn't have worked here anymore!
" "You have a soft spot, but for goats in the field!" Marian seemed surprised again by his own eloquence. "Listen, you moron! I've worked for you for twelve years for a pittance, I put up with your idiotic talk, I smell your peasant odor, but that's it! I'm quitting, faggot, do you understand?"
"Hadyniak, you don't work here anymore!" I just wonder who will hire you after forty and with poor qualifications? - the boss tried to look satisfied. -
You don't give a damn! You shitty, dickhead of dicks! - Marian shouted and then slowly left the boss's office.
Only on the way to the bar, because it was the first place he thought of, did Marian start to wonder why he'd done it and what he'd tell Jola? After all, he had two children to support, and his wife was also very demanding financially.
"The worst they could do is fucking work!" Marian thought, buying a beer.
That was yesterday, and today would bring new solutions. Marian had never been a believer in the "carpe diem" principle, but yesterday's events had triggered a new chapter in his life, a chapter that was undoubtedly groundbreaking.
The unemployed Hadyniak looked at the still-sleeping Jola. His wife looked divine, lying on the bed, covered up to her head, her face beautifully lost in thought. She would have looked divine to anyone but Marian; to him, she was a fat, ugly, nasty bitch he'd had enough of. He himself couldn't remember when he realized that nothing in life was going well because of her, that his children hated him, that she was just a bank they went to when they couldn't afford lollipops.
"Yeah! Lollipops! Those little brats must be buying cheap cigarettes and hanging out in the toilets and bushes!" Marian thought, and without knowing why, he was completely certain of this statement.
Marian dressed in his usual work clothes—a cheap suit, the same one he'd worn for five years—and left the house. He got into his car, a nice car, once a brand new family Ford. "Family car! Why did I buy that crap!!" Marian said to himself, then got out of the car and walked to the bar.
The Puma couldn't really be called a bar; it was a real dive, stinking of cigarette smoke and vomit. The place had once been quite prosperous, but the then-owner was caught by his wife having sex with a very underage girl, and then it all went smoothly—a divorce, and in short, she let him off the hook. Now even the beer tasted shitty—the place was shitty, and the beer sucked, nothing special. Marian looked around for an empty table, which wasn't difficult since there was no one else in the place except himself and the plump old barmaid. He ordered a beer and bought cigarettes. It was the first time he'd bought one in five years. Jola wouldn't let him smoke, repeatedly telling him he was stupid, irresponsible, and how could he poison himself while supporting her and his family?
"Fuck you!" was the first phrase that came to Marian's mind when he thought of his wife.
Lately, Marian had been increasingly wondering why he'd married Jola in the first place. He'd wanted a divorce, but he'd never enjoyed going to court, especially since he was terrified of government institutions. It was a veritable phobia. As a young boy, Marian had strange dreams, and in one of the most terrifying, he'd walked alone through the courthouse. This seemingly harmless dream turned into a veritable nightmare: the bodies of his relatives began falling from the ceiling, the walls were filled with blood, and whenever Marian had this nightmare, he'd wet the bed. So, for obvious reasons, Hadyniak couldn't divorce her. Another reason was his wife's faith; that stupid bigot claimed divorce was a sin.
And now, sitting with a beer, Marian contemplated his lousy life and found a solution: he'd kill Jola! He'd kill the bitch in cold blood and throw her body into the Oder River! This is how this perfidious plan began to form in Marian's head. He saw her slaughter his little wife with a kitchen knife, and this time only blood was coming from her always talkative mouth... This is how Marian saw it, and with horror he realized that he hadn't been as happy as he was today in a long time! He drank two more beers and slowly, with a devilish smile on his face, headed home.
He opened the door and, right from the threshold, joyfully called out,
"Dear Jola, I'm back!"
"What are you so happy about, you idiot!" Jola, as always, greeted him with overwhelming approval.
"But Jola, why are you so irritated today?
" "Why? Are you even asking why? Oh no, of course, as usual, in your opinion, we have no problems! Probably because you don't care and I'm the one taking care of the whole house!" Jola yelled at her husband, which made him a little nervous:
"Jolka, don't fucking shout, just tell me what happened!"
"What happened? Oh fuck, you two are determined to finish me off!" Okay, but when I die, bury me next to Mommy!
"Jola, what happened!?" This time Marian shouted,
"Don't yell at me!" Jola screamed furiously. "I didn't marry you for you to treat me like some scumbag!
" "You're the one yelling all the time!
" "Of course! You're making a fool of me! Sure! Just try yelling at me in front of the kids and you'll see!" Jola, as was her habit, yelled and waved her hands a bit wildly.
"Jola! Calm down and tell me what happened!
" "Nothing happened, of course! Leave me alone!"
Jola made a face of utter lese majesty and entered the kitchen. Marian was just waiting for this, following her and walking to the drawer where his signature knife was – a new, laser-sharpened knife he'd bought at the market two weeks ago for twelve zlotys. Marian opened the drawer and drew the knife, pretending to cut a sausage, but watching his wife out of the corner of his eye. Finally, the perfect moment arrived – Jola turned her back on Marian, and he took a swing and was about to deliver one quick, deep cut to the bitch's neck when Jola turned and said to her husband,
"Marian, do you know how much you're hurting me? What have I done to you that you're torturing me so mentally?"
Marian quickly turned around and continued cutting the sausage, saying nothing. He watched his wife and waited for the opportune moment. Jola left the kitchen, and Marian followed her. She walked down the hall and, just at the bathroom door, turned and said,
"What else are you following me around like an idiot for?"
"Honey, because I..." Marian was speechless. He didn't know what to say, turned around, and went back to the kitchen.
"You nasty, stupid bitch!" Hadyniak thought. He was at a standstill, unsure of what to do, and to make matters worse, he had the impression that this witch knew everything.
Marian waited an hour; the thought of killing his wife haunted him.
"I'll bury you, you whore, next to Mommy!" he thought, and smiled mischievously.
Jola sat down in the living room and turned on the TV. Of course, "M for something" was playing; according to Hadyniak, "M for murder" should be on that day. Yes, he would do it now. Marian calmly approached his wife and smiled, which Jola responded with a nasty grimace.
"Honey, can you stand up for a moment?" Marian asked in a gracious tone.
"Why?
" "I have a surprise for you," Marian said, still smiling sheepishly.
"I don't give a damn about your surprise!" Jola shouted back politely and turned up the volume on the TV. Marek was telling Hanka that he loved her; Jola couldn't have missed it.
Marian couldn't take it anymore, he furiously threw himself at his wife and began to strangle her. Jola screamed. This scream was elicited by utter surprise, but Marian ignored her cries. He pressed harder and harder against her throat, and with one hand began slapping her face. However, something Marian couldn't have expected happened. He suddenly felt a terrible, throbbing pain in his groin. As he grabbed the sore spot, he realized what had happened—that female dog had kicked him in the balls! Hadyniak's eyes misted over, and he fell to the ground. Jola didn't wait long, running to the kitchen and returning holding something in her hands. It took Marian a moment to realize what it was—a laser-sharpened knife worth twelve złoty. Marian tried to get up from the ground, but suddenly felt a sting in his stomach, looked up, and saw blood on his blouse. And that blouse was not just any blouse! He'd bought it when he was still single, and it was his favorite piece of clothing. Marian could endure anything but this! No one was going to ruin his beloved blouse! He stood up and, with his last bit of strength, punched Jola in the face. His wife fell to the carpet, which Marian took advantage of – he picked up a blood-stained, laser-sharpened knife (twelve złoty at the market) from the ground and plunged it with all his might into his beloved wife's chest. Jola's scream echoed throughout the living room, slightly interrupting Marek's declaration of love. Jola's blood splattered onto Marian's face, but he simply wiped it away and struck again.
He struck again, and when he was sure Jola wouldn't get up and yell at him that the whole house was on her shoulders, Marian dropped the knife and sat up. He looked at his stomach, from which blood was still slowly seeping. He felt visibly weak, feeling that this bitch had wounded him, perhaps even mortally. Marian was losing consciousness, reached for the phone and called an ambulance, not even knowing what he was saying. He threw down the phone and, falling to the ground, said:
- Get the fuck out, bitch!
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