I'm Sick of this Song Too...I think Everybody is.

«@BigJimsWornOutTireSale Very creative. »

«@BigJimsWornOutTireSale The bar fell into a hushed murmur as the husband's boots thudded against the wooden floor, each step resonating like a drumbeat of his raging heart. As he approached the stage, the lights cast dramatic shadows, turning his face into a mask of fury and pain. The singer, caught in the act of crooning Neil Diamond’s iconic tune, spotted the approaching figure but continued, the microphone trembling slightly in his hand.

“Good times never seemed so good,” the singer continued, his voice wavering as the husband’s imposing figure loomed closer. The crowd, sensing the tension, watched with bated breath, their evening's entertainment turning into a live drama.

Reaching the edge of the stage, the husband's voice broke through the music, raw and accusing. "Is this the game you play? Serenading other men’s wives?" His words sliced through the melody, silencing the band. The singer paused, his eyes locking with the husband's, a flicker of recognition passing between them.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” the singer stammered, backing away slightly, his cool demeanor cracking.

"Don't lie to me!" the husband shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. "It’s your scent on her, isn’t it?" The accusation hung heavily in the air, charged and potent.

The singer set down his microphone, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Look, whatever happened, I swear it wasn’t me. Polo’s a popular cologne, you know?" He tried to chuckle, but it caught in his throat, strained and nervous.

The husband’s gaze was unyielding, his eyes searching the singer’s face for any sign of deceit. The tension was palpable, the silence a thick veil that draped over the audience.

Just then, a gentle hand touched the husband’s shoulder. He turned to see an older bartender with a kind face, her eyes sympathetic. “Let’s talk over here, son. Not everything is as it seems.” Her voice was soft, yet held a weight of wisdom that momentarily calmed his storm.

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be led away, casting one last look at the singer who now resumed his performance hesitantly, his voice a soft echo in the suddenly distant bar. The song continued, “Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good,” but the irony of the lyrics was not lost on anyone in the room.

As the husband sat at the bar, the bartender poured him a drink, her expression thoughtful. “People wear masks, just like that singer on stage. Sometimes the person we think we know isn’t the one behind the mask. Maybe your wife, maybe even you.”

The husband took a deep breath, the anger subsiding into a cold dread of uncertainty about the truths he had yet to uncover. What had seemed like a clear betrayal now morphed into a mystery wrapped in layers of doubt and confusion. He realized the night was far from over, and the answers he sought might just change everything he thought he knew about love, fidelity, and revenge.»

«@prince of trolls "By the way, buddy," the bartender said as he reached out his hand, his voice was raspy and deep, the result of constant exposure to loud music. "I'm Buck."

Accepting the touch me-touch you grip, the husband volleyed, "I'm Chuck."

The husband's handshake is firm, calloused hands revealing years of manual labor. His skin is rough and slightly warm, telling of a life spent working in the sun.

The booze dealer chortled and replied, "Buck and Chuck." With a shake of his head and a twinkle in his eye, he added, "All we need now is your wife.” As he winked, the bartender's forehead furrowed slightly, creating a crease of skin between his eyebrows.

Stunned, Chuck jumped at his remark. "What about my wife?" he said, raising his thick, dark eyebrows to form an almost straight line over his eyes. The crease between them deepened as he furrowed them in confusion.

Buck stood his ground, inspecting the aggression from top to bottom. His gaze returned to Chuck's big blues, he remarked, "That cologne was also on me last night, buddy."

Chuck's breathing became more labored, his hands forming tight fists. He widened his eyes and bit down hard on his lower lip.

The bartender ran his fingers through his hair and said, "That wife of yours," shaking his head in disbelief, he then gestured towards his crotch and added, "Let's just say, most of my regulars have also had a taste."»

«@BigJimsWornOutTireSale but wait there's more to the story: Chuck's reaction was instantaneous. His face flushed a deep red, veins bulging as the quiet murmur of the bar seemed to fall away. The air between them charged with tension, thick enough to slice. For a moment, it seemed as though the whole world paused, awaiting his response.

But then, Chuck's expression softened, confusion giving way to a dawning realization. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "You're saying, my Linda, she's been..."

Buck nodded slowly, the twinkle in his eye replaced by a somber shadow. "Chuck, I didn't want to be the one to tell you. But yeah, she's been coming around here a lot. Not just for the drinks."

The weight of the words hung heavy in the air. Chuck pulled back, his anger retreating as quickly as it had erupted, leaving behind a profound sorrow. He slumped onto a bar stool, his broad shoulders drooping.

Buck poured him a shot, sliding it over with a sigh. "On the house," he muttered.

Chuck picked up the glass, his hands trembling slightly. He downed the liquid in one swift gulp, the burn of the whiskey a minor discomfort compared to the ache in his chest.

"Thanks, Buck," he said hoarsely, the raw emotion evident in his voice. "I guess I needed that more than I thought."

The bartender nodded, then leaned back against the counter, his face etched with empathy. "Anything else I can do for you, friend?"

Chuck shook his head, pushing the empty glass aside. He stood, steadying himself on the bar. "No. I think it's time I had a talk with Linda. Figure out where we go from here."

With a heavy heart, Chuck turned and walked out of the bar, the door closing softly behind him. Buck watched him go, a pensive frown creasing his forehead. He knew the road ahead for Chuck wouldn't be easy, but sometimes, the truth was the first step toward healing.»

«@prince of trolls As Chuck revved his pink moped, its engine growling beneath him, he arrived at Linda's house, heart pounding with a volatile mix of fury and desperation. The cool night air carried the faint scent of betrayal, pushing him ever closer to facing his unfaithful wife.

Linda watched from her window, her silhouette against the dimly lit room. She felt a rush of thrill as she saw Chuck approach, her heart fluttering with a twisted sense of excitement. With a sinister smile curling her lips, she placed a hand on the door, anticipation humming through her veins. She pushed it open and yelled, "The cops are on their way!"

As Chuck refuted, "I think it's time we talked about you being a whorism," the door slammed in his face. Suddenly, the quiet of the night shattered into chaos as five cop cars screeched to a halt, followed by the thunderous beating of helicopter blades slicing through the darkness. Chuck's eyes widened in shock as the officers swarmed him, their shouts filling the air. He reacted with sarcasm, "Ugh, this is taking things to the extreme." The brutal force of their blows rained down on him, each strike fueling the flames of his rage. Chuck remarked, "Shit, you cops in this story are fucking brutal, not gonna lie..." A bright red flash darkened his vision to a void. A cop had just kicked his teeth in, sending him to Lala Land.

Amidst the turmoil, Linda emerged from her house, clad in a scanty, silky gown that clung to her curves seductively, barely cloaked her bristled biscuit. The dark drink coasters of her teardrop breasts were visible from a block away. She approached a cop with a sultry smile, her eyes flashing with a dangerous allure. Chuck's gnarled, unconscious body shook violently as two cops tasered him. Linda's whispered promises into an officer's ear as the scene reached its crescendo of violence and deceit.»

«@BigJimsWornOutTireSale EDIT: As Chuck refuted, "I think it's time we talked about your whorism,"»