Orgonomicon Read Online Free PDF Page A

her wagon to
his train—if she'd never done any of these stupid things, her life
would have been better. Things were supposed to go a certain way
when you got married, and things had not gone that way, not
with Scott. He was such a loser. He'd never gotten off his
butt and gotten a real job, the kind that could support her and a
family, and now he'd lost everything. Served him right.
    The leafy-stuff was a crappy substitute for
the real thing, but it did the trick if you smoked enough of it.
She coughed hard, swallowed back something that was immediately put
out of her mind, and put the pipe back down. It was getting pretty
clogged up with resinous goo from the leaf-cuttings. Damn Scott for
making her smoke this nasty stuff—she deserved better.
    When they'd first met, she'd had very
different ideas about him. The sun seemed to glint in his eyes no
matter which direction he was facing; his skin was smooth and
bronzed; he stood tall like a mountain and seemed every bit as
solid, the veins in his arms ropy and his chin held high. He'd told
her he was going to make it rich with his vehicle-restoration
company; he had a plan and everything. First he'd start by getting
his engine-repair business off the ground, get himself a small
garage to start with and then hire people to do the work for him
once it started paying for itself. He was good with engines, too;
he really could have made it if he'd only applied himself. Instead,
it was failure after failure and Scott blaming it all on the whole
world and everybody but himself, and then it was welfare and the
food bank and standing in line for handouts and everything
undignified and damn it she deserved better .
    Not to mention the fact that he was
rock-stupid to boot; he couldn't take a hint. She'd tried yelling,
calling the police on him, she'd even thrown a set of knives at his
back; when she stayed out all night and came home smelling like sex
and he didn't even blink, she knew more drastic measures would be
needed. She'd been keeping diaries since before they'd met and she
knew Scott was well aware of them—she'd chewed his ass for three
months the one time she'd caught him reading them and she knew he'd
never done it again. This time, she left them out with several
passages marked with a yellow highlighter pen. Some of the entries
were fake, created purely for him, but not many.
    She described in minute detail all her sexual
trysts, both real and imagined, and detailed the growing love she
was coming to feel for one of them. Not all of it was made up.
    She'd written that she was pregnant; that was made up. Gahh. She couldn't get pregnant any more;
she'd tried.
    Thinking about it gave her a headache. What
she needed was some coke.
    Ella coughed; it was getting worse, and
starting to worry her. Scott would have normally appeared at her
side when she had one of her coughing spells with a cup of hot tea
or some noxious herbal potion—he was so controlling. Every little
thing wrong with her was amplified a thousand-fold in his presence,
as he would try to fix whatever was 'wrong' with her. And there was
always something wrong for him to fix. He was like that, always
meddling and sticking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted and always
always always making her feel like she was flawed. She had
enough problems with her flaws without Scott putting them up on
display. He probably thought he was being helpful, from up on his
high horse.
    Who the fuck did he think he was? She could
open a door for herself, for Chrissakes.
    She'd been an independent woman ever since
her fifteenth birthday, when her mom kicked her out of the house
and told her she'd have to start making it in the world on her own.
It had been a school-night, too, as if that had mattered. Her mom
was a bitch, but she was dead now. Ella cursed her mother's name,
cringing with guilt but unable to curb the hatred. She must be a
terrible person.
    She had to be a terrible person,
considering what she'd done for Scott, out of