The Day Miriam Lost Her Sh*t!

By John Locke

After trying on a bathing suit that’s too small for her middle-aged body, Miriam Smith loses it. Her subsequent decision to squeeze every last drop of excitement life has to offer makes for a hilarious journey that exposes Miriam and her bewildered husband, Kevin, to killers, thieves, drug dealers, hookers, and ultimately Donovan Creed and Callie Carpenter, who happen to be hiding out in Miriam’s basement the very day she loses her sh*t.

PRELIMINARY REVIEWS:

“John Locke’s new novel has more action in the Prologue than you’ll find in most best-selling books this year!”

“This is the book you’ll read on your summer vacation this year. The wild story and crazy characters will keep you laughing long after the ending. Like Saving Rachel and Wish List, Creed and Callie appear a bit later than I’d prefer, but I found them to be in rare form and well worth the wait. Sharp-eyed readers will remember Finn and the Deaf Hooker from a previous book. As for Miriam, what can I say except OMG! Locke has outdone himself.

“The Day Miriam Lost Her Sh*t! is beyond hilarious! The plot is John Locke at his brilliant best and the dialogue flies off the page. As always, Callie and Donovan are exquisite, as is the entire supporting cast. Buy it. Read it. Love it!”

“This book is so freaking funny! I laughed so often and loud my husband stomped out of our bedroom and slept on the couch! In any list of John Locke’s greatest hits, The Day Miriam Lost Her Sh*t! has to be top five.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Locke
• Release date: May 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781937656232

John Locke

John Locke kommt 1632 im englischen Wrington zur Welt. Nach dem Besuch der Westminster School in London studiert Locke bis 1658 in Oxford. Zwischen 1660 und 1664 lehrt er dort Philosophie, Rhetorik und alte Sprachen. Sein enzyklopädisches Wissen und seine Studien in Erkenntnistheorie, Naturwissenschaften und Medizin bringen ihm früh die Mitgliedschaft in der Royal Society ein. Als Sekretär und Leibarzt des Earl of Shaftesbury ist Locke in Folge der politischen Machtkämpfe in England gezwungen, ins holländische Exil zu fliehen. Erst 1689 kehrt er nach England zurück und widmet sich auf seinem Landgut seinen Studien. Im selben Jahr erscheint anonym Ein Brief über Toleranz, der die ausschließliche Aufgabe des Staates im Schutz von Leben, Besitz und Freiheit seiner Bürger bestimmt. Die hier formulierten Ideen finden in der amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitserklärung ihren politischen Widerhall. Lockes Hauptwerk, der Versuch über den menschlichen Verstand, erscheint erst 1690 vollständig, wird aber vermutlich bereit 20 Jahre früher begonnen. Es begründet die Erkenntnistheorie als neuzeitliche Form des Philosophierens, die besonders in der französischen Aufklärung nachwirkt. Locke lehnt darin Descartes' Vorstellung von den eingeborenen Ideen ab und vertritt einen konsequenten Empirismus. Aus der theoretischen Einsicht in die Begrenztheit der Erkenntnisfähigkeit ergibt sich für Locke die Forderung, daß sich weder ein Staatssouverän noch eine Glaubensgemeinschaft im Besitz der allein gültigen Wahrheit wähnen darf. Der mündige Bürger, der in der Lage ist, kritisch selbst zu entscheiden, wird konsequenterweise zum pädagogischen Ziel Lockes. John Locke stirbt 1704 als europäische Berühmtheit auf seinem Landsitz in Oates.

Book preview

Prologue

Saturday, December 8th

THE CAR IN Miriam’s driveway belongs to a young lady who’s half the age of Miriam’s husband.

Son of a bitch! Miriam screams.

She parks directly behind it and storms to the front door with keys in hand. As she passes the living room window, Miriam notices the drapes have been pulled shut: the ones she never closes because it takes forever to retie them into perfect swoops.

She fits her key in the lock, slips quietly inside, and hears the unmistakable sound of fucking. Specifically, the sound her husband makes when fucking.

"Uh, Uh, Uh! Baby! Uh, Uh Uh! Baby!"

Working it into a rhythm, which means he’s getting close. If Miriam allows this bullshit to continue another thirty seconds he’ll yell, "I’m coming! I’m...I’m…coming!" And he will come. And when he does, he’ll make that stupid pshhhhhhh! sound a tire makes when you press the valve with your fingernail.

Miriam rushes to the living room to find Kevin balls deep in the young lady’s privates. They’re on the living room floor, going at it like they’re having the best sex of their lives, which they most certainly are not.

"You motherfucker!" she screams, racing toward them.

Kevin stops in mid-thrust. Aw, shit, he says.

Miriam stares at the incongruous couple: the lithe young lady, half-crushed beneath Kevin’s flabby, middle-aged body, her delicate legs framing his baggy, untanned ass. As Miriam shakes her head in disgust, Kevin says, I can explain.

Don’t bother. It’s obvious Jill arrived early, and you started without me. It was rude, and you owe me an apology.

I’m sorry, he says. Please join us.

Jill nods, encouragingly.

Miriam’s pissed, but what’s there to do about it?

She strips, drops to her knees, and scoots her body toward Jill. As she moves in for a kiss, she notices Jill’s eyes have suddenly grown huge. Turning her head to follow the young lady’s gaze, Miriam sees a deaf hooker standing over them, pointing a gun.

All three fuckers on the floor have reasons to apologize to the deaf hooker, and begin doing so, with great urgency.

But being deaf, the hooker can’t hear them.

And so, she starts shooting.

Part One: Miriam & Kevin

1.

Koessler’s Steak House

Monday, December 3rd (Five Days Earlier)

HOW WAS YOUR day?

Kevin stares at his wife. "My day? Same as always. He takes a bite of his steak. How was your day, Miriam?"

Life-changing.

How so?

I lost my shit.

What do you mean?

I had a meltdown. Spent three hours in a fetal position, crying my eyes out on the bathroom floor. How’s your steak?

You spent three hours crying?

At least three hours.

"Why?"

Because I’m dying, Kevin.

He nods. We’re all dying.

Thanks for the support. I knew you’d understand. I’ve always said your reservoir of empathy is second to none. It might be your greatest quality.

He sighs. Is this a real thing?

What do you mean?

I’m just saying, did your doctor call with a bad test result? Or is it like the time you found your first gray hair and went off the deep end?

You can’t trivialize gray hair by comparing it to a bad test result. They both signify a body in the late stages of decay. Why are you looking at me like that?

I just remembered that bathing suit you ordered. What happened, it didn’t fit?

Miriam flattens her lips. Eat your steak, Kevin.

Knowing she was too old to wear a bikini, Miriam purposely ordered a two-piece that promised to show enough of her figure to be sexy, while remaining tasteful. After Kevin left for work this morning, she opened the package lovingly, with great enthusiasm. But stuffing herself into the bathing suit was like forcing a beach ball into a gym sock. And when she finally got it on, she approached her full-length mirror to discover she looked worse than the ring girl at a cock fight. With trembling lips, she peeled the top down to her waist and stared at her upper torso. Her breasts—once her finest physical feature—were now like corduroy pants washed too many times: saggy, ribbed, and almost completely devoid of structure. Though her nipples remained youthful and taut, it wasn’t enough to ward off the ensuing depression, which required three hours of crying and two hours of shoe-shopping to overcome. Which reminds her: Did you happen to notice my shoes?

Kevin tilts his head, trying to see them, but the tablecloth’s in the way. Sorry. Are they new?

I bought them to match that dress I hate. Did I mention I went shopping with Karen?

I’m…not sure. I don’t think so.

Want me to stand so you can see them?

For Kevin, the short answer’s no, since frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. But all these years of marriage have prepared him to say, Please do.

Miriam stands and does a little dance. Ta da!

They’re blood red, he says.

You like them?

To Kevin they look like all her other shoes, only red. Very stylish.

"I know, right? Karen certainly loves them. She was so jealous I saw them first."

You’re wearing pants.

So?

You said you bought them to match your dress.

I did. But I can wear them with other things, obviously. Miriam reclaims her chair and says, Can I get a Brussels Griffon?

Is that some sort of bathing suit?

You’re joking, right? She stares at him, then says, "It’s a dog. You remember the movie with Jack Nicholson? As Good as It Gets?"

What about it?

Remember that adorable little dog he had to take care of? Verdell? That’s a Brussels Griffon.

We don’t need a dog.

"We don’t, but I do. And Brussels Griffons are perfect. They’re expensive and require a lot of care."

That sounds like two strikes against them. But if you really want a dog…

I do!

Go to the pound, get a rescue dog.

"I hate rescue dog owners! I would never be one of those!"

All Kevin wanted was a steak, and now he’s trapped in Miriam’s vortex. Normally, this would be the perfect time to change the subject. But since he can’t fathom why Miriam hates the men and women who save the lives of animals, he asks, Why?

They’re all the same. You see a sad-looking dog and lie to the owner by saying, ‘Oh, what a cute dog!’ And the owner says, ‘This is Elmo. He’s a rescue dog.’

Is that it?

What do you mean?

I don’t see the problem.

They never say ‘This is Elmo.’ They always have to add the fact he’s a rescue dog. They want credit. They make it all about themselves. They’re too cheap to buy a Brussels Griffon, so they get a rescue dog and I’m supposed to think they’re saints for getting a dog no one wants. It’s ridiculous!

That seems like a harsh stance to take.

I don’t care! I want a Brussels Griffon!

He sighs. How much are we talking about, two hundred? Three?

$6,300.

"Excuse me?"

Sixty-three hundred, and worth every penny.

"You have lost your shit. What do you mean they require a lot of care?"

They need the kind of love and attention I’m willing to give.

And if they don’t get it?

Miriam shrugs. They develop separation anxiety.

Which causes what?

Destructive tendencies, defiance, aggression.

"That’s the sort of dog you want?"

"It’s the sort of dog I need! I’d be forced to take care of it."

For how long?

"For its whole life, Silly! You know what a great mom I am, and I’ve got nothing but time, since Jeffrey’s in college and you’re working all day. I’m bored, Kevin! A cute little Verdell dog would be perfect! Sure, they’re hard to housebreak. But I potty trained a boy! How hard can a puppy be?"

How long do they live?

Ten to fifteen years.

"How about we don’t buy the dog and I’ll shit on the carpet every day for the next 15 years?"

"Fuck you, Kevin!"

"That’ll be the day," he mutters.

"Why are you so grumpy? If anyone has a right to be grumpy, it’s me, not you. What’s your problem?"

Kevin points his fork at her. You.

What about me?

"Three days ago, you ordered a bathing suit you knew was too small to fit. Today it arrived, and you let it ruin your day. Now you want to spend $6,300 for a high-maintenance dog you need, that you didn’t even want yesterday. Not to mention the shoes you bought to match a dress you hate so you could impress Karen, who you don’t even like."

I should have expected this sort of response from you.

Kevin’s muttering something in response, but Miriam doesn’t bother listening. Her mind has drifted to the incident that improved her mood today. It wasn’t the shoes…

2.

IT WAS THE salesman. When the young man sat on the stool in front of her, Miriam realized her legs were apart. Though he appeared not to notice, she instinctively clamped her knees together. Then for some reason—curiosity? Her need for sexual validation? —she parted them. At first, he refused to look. So, she opened them wider, turned her head away, and…

That did the trick.

The young salesman didn’t just peek, he stared! And when he raised his eyes to Miriam’s face a shy smile curled his lips. Glancing at her left hand he said, How long have you been married?

Feeling oddly guilty, Miriam instinctively closed her fingers over her wedding band.

The young man said, "You are married, correct?"

Yes, but…

As the second word hung in the air, the young man arched a brow, and Miriam wondered why she uttered the word in the first place. Knowing he expected clarification, Miriam, for the life of her, couldn’t figure out how to complete the sentence. Had she sorted out her feelings in advance before boldly spreading her legs two feet from a complete stranger’s face in Macy’s shoe department at Oxmoor Mall, she might have said, Yes, but we’re no longer intimate. And had she met him in a local bar after consuming four fingers of alcohol, she might have added, And I yearn for physical contact.

But those words were appropriate for a second meeting, not for whatever this was.

Adding to her discomfort, Miriam spotted her friend Karen waving in the distance. Karen, winding up a purchase in the housewares’ department, would be heading toward Miriam within minutes.

And so, caught in the moment, unable to think of anything further to say, Miriam spread her legs even wider and heard her surprisingly husky voice telling the shoe salesman, If you keep smiling like that, you just might get lucky tonight.

And he, God bless him, said, I’d like that.

Then Miriam remembered why she was shopping in the first place and said, Oh, dear. I misspoke just now. I have dinner plans for tonight. But…

He smiled. A raincheck?

She smiled back. I’d like that. By the way, I’m Miriam. My friend Karen is working her way toward us, so we’ll need to keep this our little secret, okay?

Of course.

Thank you. May I ask your name?

It’s on the card I gave you: Sam Cupp.

She tried saying it out loud. Sam Cupp. I like that.

Thank you. Miriam?

Yes?

"I adore these shoes on you! May I wrap them?"

Of course.

Miriam didn’t find Sam particularly attractive, nor was he sprouting an obvious boner. But his cheeks were flushed, and when he returned his gaze to the unobstructed view of her panties for one last look, she felt a flush of her own that elevated her mood and rendered her sopping wet, which is why she had to change her underwear before going to dinner. And, since she’d already hung up her dress, she lazily donned a pair of pants instead.

And now she’s sitting in Koessler’s Steak House with Kevin, wishing she were with Sam, discussing her physical needs. Sam might be young, small-boned, and slightly effeminate, but he gave her the distinct impression he knows what Miriam needs and is man enough to give it to her. As an added plus, Sam doesn’t look like the sort of young man people would suspect of maintaining a long-term affair with a middle-aged woman.

Long term affair?

She’s certainly getting ahead of herself. He’ll probably bang her once and never give her a second look.

Unless she makes it worth his while.

Which means she’ll probably have to blow him.

Is she willing to?

She thinks about it and decides she will. But perhaps not all the way.

Kevin says, Did Karen buy a pair?

Of what?

Shoes.

Miriam laughs. Do you really care?

Not really. I was just trying to make conversation.

She bought three pair, but she’ll probably return them tomorrow.

Why?

She won’t try them on in the store.

Why not?

Shoe salesmen creep her out.

Why?

It’s a long story.

To Kevin, any story that takes her mind off buying a $6,300 dog is worth hearing. Give me the short version, he says.

"When Karen was in high school, she had an…accident, and had to remove her panties. Miriam pauses. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

She got her period unexpectedly?

Exactly. So anyway, that afternoon her mom dropped her off at the mall and Karen was wearing a skirt and forgot all about not having any panties on. And when she went into a shoe store to try something on the salesman looked up her dress and said the worst thing possible. She looks at Kevin’s face. You’re picturing it, aren’t you!

No, of course not! Well, yeah, maybe. A little.

That’s disgusting.

Kevin frowns. Fine, don’t tell me.

Don’t tell you what?

What the guy said that traumatized her.

Miriam looks around, then lowers her voice. He said, ‘I’d like to fill your pussy with ice cream and eat every last bit.’

"Jesus!"

I know, right?

After taking a healthy sip of bourbon, Kevin says, Is that a true story?

According to Karen, yes. And it must be, since she refuses to try on shoes.

Did she report the guy?

Of course not!

What do you mean?

She was in high school. And mortified! She ran out of the store and cried for two days.

That’s terrible.

Miriam says, What if some guy said that to me?

What do you mean?

If that happened to me today at Macy’s, what would you do to the salesman?

If he said he’d like to fill your pussy with ice cream and eat every last bit?

Miriam nods.

I wouldn’t do anything.

"What? Why not?"

First of all, you should have been wearing panties. And second, I don’t want to get in a fight with any man who can eat that much ice cream!

He grins.

"You think that’s funny?"

"I know it is."

Would you even care if a shoe salesman went down on me?

Kevin looks around to see if anyone heard her. Then says, I’d like to think you’d never allow that to happen.

Miriam fiddles with her napkin as she ponders the idea of Sam Cupp going down on her. Would she want him to? And would he want to? She thinks about it and decides he would. He’s a man, after all.

Have some water, Kevin says.

What?

Your face is flushed. You should drink some water.

She reaches for her glass, takes a sip. Then says, Did you think things would be different after Jeffrey went away to college?

"Different? Of course. I just…" He abandons the sentence.

It’s okay, Miriam says. Please finish your thought.

I thought it would improve our relationship. But it didn’t.

If you’re talking about last night—

"I’m not! Kevin says. Believe me!"

I’m just saying, I think we should. Talk about it, I mean.

He spears another piece of steak, lifts it toward his mouth, then stares at it, and puts his fork down on his plate. Fine. Talk away.

Is your health okay?

He rolls his eyes.

How long since your last physical?

Two months, he says. And I’m fine.

Are you sure? I mean, things change as you get older.

"They do, huh?"

Yes, absolutely. And no offense, but you’re fifty. Things change, Kevin. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Good to know. By the way, we’re the same age.

Who is?

You and I.

"What are you talking about? I’m four years younger than you."

You’ve been telling that story so long you probably believe it.

You want to see my driver’s license?

I don’t need to. I’ve seen your birth certificate.

The nurses made a mistake.

"I’ve also seen your diploma. And our marriage license. Personally, I don’t care how old you tell your friends you are.