BADGER'S UNDOING

 

Badger knew every element. The ups the downs, the bumpy ride, yet he never complained. He went about his business in an efficient, friendly manner. One wouldn’t call him ‘cheerful’, and certainly not “carefree”. “Carefree” he was not. The banter had it that he had troubles at home…with, the Wife. But that was no one’s business, and as long as we’re accounting for our time, there is NO time for Mr. Badger’s domestic affairs. It’s all, Business As Usual.

Yet it was a sad predicament. So sad, that, …after hours, I found myself thinking of him. What was he going through at this very moment? Was she depraved, or depressed? …or both? Was he suffering her slings and arrows, or shaking her awake from some somnambulistic trance. Was she high-as-a-kite, strung out, or anesthetized?  

This was of course, nonsensical, since I had no real read on the situation. But I am sensitive to those that suffer in silence, and I sense, Badger was one of those. 

I had taken a chance, not long ago, and ventured a query of Badger, asking if he’d like to join me for a drink, after work…just the two of us, but he declined in a reticent, yet stoic manner. I could not convince him if I’d tried, but I didn’t. I let it slide, and bid him a  ‘…goodnight’. Perhaps if I had pressed him…

This weekend past, Badger met with his maker. His wife had succumbed as well. They called it a murder-suicide, I call it a pity. Didn’t really matter who pulled the trigger, the damage was done.

V