by Jay Begler
“That’s a lot of fucking, and by the way, thanks to the famous Sheila brand Spa Diet, our guts are down to a size one,” they said mockingly. “Well, we were here to make up, but it’s obvious you don’t want to mend fences or want sex with us. Okay, we’ll simply start without you.”
“What? You’re going to make love with each other? That’s sick.”
“Get real, Phil. You have played with yourself plenty of times since we have been married. Right, Phil? Be candid, now. Just between us. Mum’s the word.”
“Yes, but...”
“We’re just doing the same thing, playing with ourselves.” Then they burst out laughing, turned to a theretofore hidden cameraman, who stood in front of a director who said, “Okay, that’s a wrap! Boy, just wait until they show this on the Obrah / Vinfrey show.” With that, the Two Sheilas and their entourage left the house.
Goodwin snapped. He later said of that moment, “I was so out of control that my Dybbuk’s Dybbuk took possession of me.” Dressed only in his pajama bottoms, Goodwin grabbed a putter that had been in a trophy case and gave chase, golf club raised over his head in a weapon-like position. The paparazzi and television reporters camped on his lawn now had obtained shots of Goodwin far beyond anything they could have ever imagined. The following day a critical press had a field day. Even Golf Digest took umbrage at Goodwin’s club selection and how he held the club, which, in the reviewer’s opinion, would not result in a good stroke.
Goodwin’s earlier recording on the Two Sheilas’ answering machine provoked a headline in the New York Times which read, ‘Deranged Husband Threatens The Sheila.’ Sub-Headline, ‘District Attorney To Investigate If Law Was Broken.’” The paper carried side-by-side photographs, one with Goodwin giving chase, a frenzied look in his eyes, holding his putter aloft and one of the District Attorney being kissed on each cheek by the Two Sheilas. That evening Goodwin’s PPR had dropped to a five.
The Two Sheilas reappeared on the Obrah / Vinfrey show and played the video of Goodwin they had taken the night before which, among other things, depicted him bleary eyed, admitting to masturbation as an adult. A famous celebrity chef and psychologist (a strict Freudian who would never cook for his mother, who herself was strict but not a Freudian.) was called on the show for a quick segment on the consequences of adult male masturbation and the correlation between it and early hair loss. As soon as he said this all the men in the audience and watching on television put their hands through their hair. For the first twenty minutes of the show, the video of Goodwin giving chase outside his door was played and replayed with background music from Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries,” music which some still associate with the Nazis.
“Yes,” one Sheila said, “he had turned in a typical fashion from a devotionally abusive to an actively abusive husband.”
A sympathetic and highly emotional Vinfrey in tears, genuine or otherwise, turned to the Two Sheilas and said, “You know, I believe in marriage, but this guy is a rodent, a rat. You should get rid of him. In my country he would be sent to the Gulag.”
“Yes,” said Obrah, “and probably to the unheated part.” The remark prompted a huge round of support from the audience.
Both Sheilas addressed the television cameras in a somber fashion and spoke in unison, “You know how it is. For years you dream of being free from this hurtful and destructive devotional abuse, but you don’t want to leave because of the children.” When Goodwin heard this he put his mouth by the small speaker on his TV set, with the irrational thought that if he spoke into the speaker someone might hear him, and shouted, “We don’t have any children. You didn’t want them.”
Sheila Right continued, “You feel inferior and lonely, but sacrifice everything for the sake of the marriage. How many of you women feel the same way?” All of the women and all of the men raised their hands. “And so the Original Sheila tried to make the best of a bad situation. And after we emerged from our beyond REM state, one would think Phil would be happy, but as you all heard from his malicious phone message, the only thing that would make him happy was, God forbid, to get revenge. And then, the worst and scariest part of the message; he told us to be afraid, to be very afraid. Frankly, he’s caused us to become afraid, we’re very afraid.” They burst into rehearsed tears. Sheila Left in a cheerier voice said, “Under ordinary circumstances, we wouldn’t have slept a wink all night, but thanks to Nytol (Sheila Left was holding up a Nytol bottle) we slept quite well and awoke this morning refreshed.”
“Despite his awful message we go to Philip to reconcile and offer to submit our bodies to him. We dress in our sexiest Victoria’s Secret, Sheila Model negligee, on sale at all Victoria’s Secret stores through Monday. And what does he do? He tries to kill us.”
“You know,” one of the Sheilas said, “we would really like to be free of Phil, but we still want to set an example for the American Family. We believe in the sanctity of the family and of marriage. We simply don’t know what to do.”
Audience members began to shout, “Dump Phil” and “keep Phil” and “kill Phil.” Vinfrey walked to the front of the stage and said, “I have a wonderful idea. Let’s let the American Public decide. For those of you who think the Two Sheilas should divorce Phil, call 1-800-DUMP PHIL. For those of you who think they should work things out, call 1-800-KEEP PHIL. We’ll announce the results tomorrow. Do you agree?”
“We owe it to the American people,” the Two Sheilas responded. The closing shot on the show was of the Two Sheilas hugging members of the audience and singing “We Shall Overcome.”
The Divorce Emporium
As Goodwin watched the closing credits roll over the scene of the Two Sheilas embracing members of the audience, he began to understand how and what drove people to commit murder. The concept of actually killing the Two Sheilas pleased him, but he knew that he could not carry out such an act. He thought, “On the other hand, I could take some initiative in this blossoming war and have the pleasure of throwing them off stride; divorce them before they divorce me.” For his own amusement, Goodwin took out his phone and dialed 1-800-DUMP SHEILA. When a woman whose voice was unfamiliar answered in a rather bored voice, “This is Sheila, when do you want to hump me,” he realized he dialed the wrong number.
Goodwin had little doubt that in the end he would lose his action for divorce. Where could he get a fair-minded jury? His public image was so tarnished at this point that he even received a letter from the Misogynist Society. For the first time in its history, the letter advised, the Society took the side of a woman. “Our vote,” the letter closed with, “was unanimous.” On the same day Goodwin received the letter, he saw his photograph on the cover of People Magazine’s new line extension, Unpopular People Magazine. Below his photo was a banner proclaiming, “The Most Unpopular Man In America.” Goodwin believed the tag to be accurate.
The following morning he entered “The Matrimony Shop,” a store that featured all types of products relating to marriage, from prenuptial agreements to nuptial agreements to anti-nuptial agreements, to pro-nuptial agreements to wedding vows, to products relating to the end of a marriage, the latter sold in a separate section called the “Divorce Emporium.” The products offered in this section included separation agreements and forms used to institute a divorce proceeding. The store even had a post-divorce dating service that enticed potential customers by advertising: “Half Off For Second Marriages.” Goodwin had actually contemplated subscribing to some online dating services until he received letters from eharmony.com and match.com advising him not to bother, as he was “pre-disqualified.” J Date asked Goodwin to become a Christian and www.christianmingles.com asked him not to convert to Christianity.
Goodwin purchased the “Do It Yourself Divorce Kit,” and filled out the caption of the complaint for divorce:
PHILIP GOODWIN
V.
SHEILA GOODWIN & SHEILA GOODWIN
A/K/A THE TWO SHEILAS
He checked off all of the following:
[X]-Extreme Cruelty
[X]-Abandonment
[X]-Infidelity, and the famous [X]-Miscellaneous: “In addition to the foregoing grounds, the Two Sheilas, were abusive, breached their marital vows, were cruel and inhuman, committed fraud and above all are not the woman I married.”
With his homemade divorce forms in hand, Goodwin walked up the 30 or so stairs of the New York Supreme court in lower Manhattan and filed his papers. He was confident that his action was correct and thought it was a good omen that the court was giving 50 percent off of their filing fees for non-lawyers as a way of attracting new business. Not only that, the smiling and ultra friendly court clerk gave Goodwin a card, similar to a card from a coffee house though bearing the scales of justice and saying “Eleventh Trial Free.” The clerk had punched two holes in the card, winked at Goodwin and said, “Don’t tell anyone.” Goodwin’s optimistic feelings as he walked down to the street, gave sway to surprise when a herd of paparazzi accosted him. One asked, “What are you doing here, Mr. Goodwin?”
“Well,” he replied somewhat smugly, “I just filed divorce papers against the Two Sheilas.”
The group was stunned to the point of putting down their cameras. For the first time the paparazzi became “shockedarazzi.” “What? Didn’t you read the results of the 1-800 divorce survey? Out of one hundred million votes, ninety- nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred voted to Keep Phil, to have you work it out with the Two Sheilas. The other 100 votes seem to have come from some crazy person who voted to Dump Phil 100 times.” Goodwin was too ashamed to tell the reporter that he was that crazy person. “Believe it or not Phil, people were beginning to buy into your ‘compassion’ request, but I guess now that will never happen.
With a television camera taking a very tight shot of Goodwin’s face, which appeared to have a severe nervous tic, a television newscaster asked, “So, Mr. Goodwin, how does it feel to spit in the eye of the American Public?”
“No comment. No comment. No comment. No comment. Goodwin replied as he ran into a waiting taxi. Before he could roll up the taxi’s window, a reporter identifying herself as being with El Dario asked, “Don’t you think filing for divorce was a bit reckless?”
“Sin comentarious!”
That afternoon, a special edition of the Obrah/Vinfrey show opened with a title: “Shame On You, Philip Goodwin.” A somber looking Obrah said, in tones evocative of a eulogy, “This is a very sad day for America. Like all of you good people out there, the hundred million or so that voted to keep Phil, we had expected this story would have a happy ending. We prayed that Philip Goodwin, despite his predatory sexual nature, particularly with homeless women like poor Sophie would reconcile with his wives.” Goodwin concluded that the use of the plural “women” instead of a singular “woman,” was purposeful and intended to give the impression that he preyed on many homeless women.
“That will never happen now and we know who to blame don’t we?” Before she continued, the entire audience, this time comprised entirely of nuns who had taken vows of silence, yelled, “Philip Goodwin!”
“That is correct,” Winfrey interjected. “To quote that reporter on the court house steps, Goodwin is a man who spits in the eye of every man woman and child in America.” This tweaked version of the actual statement of the reporter, in particular the use of the active “spits,” instead of “spit” to imply a continuing contempt for America by Goodwin, and the mention of children being the recipient of his salvia was, Goodwin concluded when he heard it, concocted by the Two Sheila’s PR firm.
“The Sheila will now read a statement.” The Two Sheilas were dressed in conservative black suits and wearing dark sunglasses to give the impression that they were crying. Standing in front of a phalanx of attorneys, public relations coaches and attractive and ethnically diverse background people, Ralph Lauren Polo types, having no function at all except to add more cache to the Two Sheilas, they began to read a written statement. Their single voice was perfect, not aggressive, cracking somewhat to evoke sympathy, and straightforward, “We very much regret the precipitous, reckless and Pearl Harbor-like action by our husband, Philip, particularly because of the disappointment he has heaped upon the American Public, who we hold so dear. Now, we would like our attorney, the eminent Oliver Wendal Holmes Wang to speak.”
A very angry looking Wang took the microphone and said, “This is a fight The Sheila did not want. Now that Goodwin has fired the first salvo, however, it is time to fight back. We will counter-sue for divorce tomorrow. In contrast to what Goodwin filed, our papers will not be cheap forms that anyone could complete. These carefully drafted, heart-wrenching documents will reveal a great deal about the immoral if not sadistic character of Goodwin. As for now, since the residence in Grace Harbor is actually owned by The Sheila, we consider Goodwin to be a trespasser, if not worse. Accordingly, we have filed a complaint against him for criminal trespass and have contacted local law enforcement officials to have Goodwin removed from their house, by force if necessary.”
Goodwin was stunned. This was his house, placed in Sheila’s name just to insulate it against any liability he might incur. He bought it from Sheila’s parents with his own money. Goodwin was about to phone Schnell but, before he could do so, heard a somewhat familiar voice on a bullhorn. It was Ronald Durksen.
“Hi, Phil,” Durksen’s voice resonated through the bullhorn. “Phil, you probably know by now that the house is surrounded by the police. Well, not really surrounded. There is sort of a semi-circle in the front and one officer in the back, personnel cutbacks you know. Besides, the police there are some lovely onlookers, very fashionably dressed, I may add. And, just to lend some more prestige to this event, many television cameras are focusing on your front door. So please do not come out in your pajama bottoms, very déclassé. Before we get down to police business, Phil, I want to tell everyone here that your pledge of $100 was very generous, but you never paid us. We’re all certain it was an oversight and if the check is in the mail, we apologize for the inconvenience. If not, we ask that you come out with your hands up, but one of them should be holding a check for $100. Finally, Phil, we invite you to leave in 10 minutes so we can avoid tear gas. We are substantially over budget as is and the gas vapor stains our uniforms.”
Goodwin had little choice. Several minutes later, dressed in his Calvin Klein twill pants, Hugo Boss blazer, a custom-made shirt, and Hermes tie, carrying important documents in a Louis Vuitton attaché case, and holding a check made out to the Grace Harbor police force, he walked out of his house, with his hands held above his head. It was clear to Goodwin immediately that he passed muster with Durksen who nodded approvingly and instructed his subordinates through his bullhorn so that his voice would be picked up on national television, to “Put the bracelets on him, boys.” Durksen explained in a television interview taking place simultaneously with Goodwin’s arrest that “bracelets” was the appropriate term and not the colloquial “cuffs,” which he regarded as a word misused by the media. “Cuffs,” in his view, should only be used when referring to slacks or to a certain type of jewelry piece.
Taking the check from Goodwin’s raised hand, Durksen said, “I like your outfit. Thanks for cooperating. It sets a real example for other felons in our area. The handcuffs are just a bit of theatrics. We will take them off as soon as we are in the central booking van. Just hold your hands above your head so the cameras can focus in on the handcuffs. They were designed by Paloma Picasso.”
As he walked to the booking van, several onlookers jeered Goodwin. One held a sign, which probably echoed the sentiments of all of the women there, “Philip Goodwin is a Beast.” There was also group of protesters with signs reading, “Occupy Grace Harbor.” Apparently, these were people from outside the tony town who were there to protest the fact that none of them could afford Mercedes cars. He thought he saw Sophie, but when he gave a more focused look she was gone or maybe, he thought, she was never there at all.
; Within minutes, the Police “PACK” (Packing, Adeptly, Consciously, and Knowledgably) Team, similar to a SWAT Team, but specializing in rapid packing, ran into Goodwin’s house, packed up all of his clothing perfectly and placed them in the van. When the van pulled away, Durksen turned to Goodwin and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve booked you into the Plaza. It is not quite the same since it has been partially converted to a condo, but the hotel still has character and charm and your room overlooks the park. It’s quite nice.”
“You mean, you’re not placing me in jail?”
“Oh no,” he laughed. “After all you are one of our own. It’s not like you’re from out of town or any place like that or, God forbid, poor, though you are only a five, such a disappointment to us all. To think, when we first met you were a 28. So sad. Maybe you can make a comeback some day. You know, Les Miserables, though Jean Valjean if you are to believe Fictional PPRs actually had a rating of 12 when he left prison. I suspect it’s because his nemesis Inspector Javert voted against him many times. It’s only a theory.” Goodwin in disbelief mouthed, “Fictional PPRs?” He did not pursue the inquiry.
“Maybe, I’ll be better off out of the house, but I’m going to really miss living there. What they did to me was pretty awful.”
“True, but now that you are below 10, you’d be required to move to a different town in any event.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, town ordinance 269. Anyone with a PPR of 10 and below, you know Low Lifes, needs to leave town within 60 days.”
“That’s crazy. Where will these poor people go?”
“Wow, you really have been out of touch. I suggested setting up camps where they can be concentrated.” Goodwin could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise.
Durksen escorted Goodwin into a narrow alley behind the Plaza and then into a somewhat camouflaged elevator hidden behind some large refuse cans. A bellman escorted him to a luxurious suite overlooking the park and left without asking for a tip. Goodwin was alone in his hotel room. While he was still in a state of shock, he began contemplating his life without the Two Sheilas and thought, with a sense of optimism, “One way or another, this conflict will reach closure and I will be finally finished with Sheila or the Two Sheilas or whatever the hell they’re called.”
