She cheated, he went to Jail

Life is certainly unfair as we all know. When it comes to love and war, this is especially true.

Curtis Collins stood on his front porch in Ohio on a frigid, -1 Celsius afternoon, wearing only a short-sleeved shirt. As a day laborer in a union factory in the northeast, he had acclimated to the fierce Ohio winters. He sparked a Marlboro red and blew blue smoke towards an approaching Dodge Dart.

The sedan screeched to a halt. A particularly attractive woman sporting dirty blonde hair and red lipstick rolled down the driver's side window. "Hey! Does that dirty ho Erica live here?"

Somewhat surprised by the sudden outburst on an otherwise quiet day, Curtis replied, "If you're referring to my wife, the answer is yes. On the other hand, I'd advise you watch that potty mouth of yours lest you fill the wrath of a man not in the mood for bickering."

Without hesitation, the woman blurted, "Well, if you're Curtis, please know that while you were away on business for two days, you wife slept with my husband, Scooter!"

Curtis tuned and Erica was hiding behind the screen door. "Is it true, Erica?"

She failed to respond.

"Is it true?!" he persisted.

"Yes!" Erica screamed, as she slammed the door and bolted it shut.

"Thanks for the 211," Curtis mumbled at the blonde. "I'll be at the Iron Works Bar if you have any details you want to share." With that he jumped in his 1969 Chevy Nova, the 3rd fastest car in town, and sped to the bar.

After a quick beer followed by five White Russians, Curtis was calmer, a bit tipsy, and the revengeful thoughts that had rattled his mind had ceased.

Liz the bartender, placed another double White Russian in front of Curtis. "It's from the lady at the end of the bar."

Curtis looked to see the same blonde who had given him the news earlier. Neither spoke further. He wasn't the type to seek sex revenge, even when a pretty woman was willing.

At 2 a.m. when the bar closed, Curtis jumped in the Nova, cranked it up, and clicked the heater on. It was -10 Celsius and yet he had his window rolled halfway down, drunk as a proverbial skunk.

He passed out and was awakened with a man pushing on his arm. "Man, you best get out of here. The cops are on the prowl."

Curtis drove to the stoplight a half-block away, turned right, and headed down a steep incline ending in a sturdy steel barrier. He meant to turn left but his reflexes had been dulled by alcohol and he slammed into the barrier at 45 m.p.h.

He didn't lose consciousness but was suddenly aware of blood streaming in gushes from his forehead. The Nova was on the guardrail, its right rear tire resting precariously on top. Frantically, Curtis restarted the engine, it caught, and he drove off the railing with a hard jolt and motored back up the hill.

With his vision blurred from the flow of blood and a shattered windshield, not to mention the smoke pouring out of a damaged radiator, he could barely see.

He sped as fast as he could past the police station and towards a convenience store, parking away from the gas pumps. Inside he asked for a fresh pack of Marlboros and a lighter, paid and exited.

The clerk had called the cops. On the main road to the hospital he saw the blue and red lights flashing and a siren wail, then another, but he kept going on a flat tire, bent wheel, and with antifreeze further blurring the windshield.

A loudspeaker from a police car demanded he pull over. He refused. Instead he drove right up to the Emergency Room door and entered, with a trio of police officers hot on his heels.

The ER doctor put 12 stiches in his forehead and three over his eye, then allowed the cops to take him away after it was determined he had no concussion. "You're under arrest for drunk driving and leaving the scene of an accident," is all Curtis remembered until he was safely ensconced in a single jail cell.

The next morning when a trustee handed him a plate of green eggs, two pieces of cold toast, a cup of lukewarm coffee, and a newspaper, Curtis thanked him and sipped his coffee.

Unfolding the paper, a picture of his burning car was on the front page.

The headline read: "She Cheated, he went to jail." Curtis laughed and slept off his hangover, leaving the green eggs for the rats.