Take your pills.

Herbert Krinkstrom sipped what was left of the instant coffee he'd made and put the empty mug down on the night stand. His wife, Marlene, had recently made him switch to decaf. A mound of pillows supported him as he leaned back against his bedroom wall and sighed to himself. He knew Marlene be coming home soon. That woman was like clockwork. If only he could have a few more minutes of peace.

"Herb? Herb, why isn't the water running?" came her shrill voice through the foyer. She had barely been in the house for five seconds before she noticed his failure to comply. Could she hear the plumbing's silence through the brick exterior walls of their house? "Herbert, you know I like my bath at eight-thirty. Why can't you manage to get anything right?" Her words trailed off as she disappeared into other regions of their brownstone in search of nits to pick regarding the many short-comings of Herbert's less-than-productive day.

"Guilty, your honor..." he whispered to himself as he scrambled down the hall to draw her bath.

"What was that?" Marlene shrieked from some unknown location. "Herbert, I may have to start leaving you a list on the refrigerator. If this marriage is going to work, then..."

But he'd already closed the bathroom door behind him; gingerly, of course.

Herbert Krinkstrom sat on the edge of the cast-iron tub with his wrist under the faucet. If Marlene sprung through the door and caught him ignoring the water's temperature it'd be curtains for his evening. The detective program he'd planned on watching later on that night would no longer be for his viewing pleasure. If Herbert didn't straighten out his act, and quickly, Marlene would force him to watch her shopping shows. He knew this from prior experience.

The tub was finally three-quarters of the way full so Herbert withdrew his wet wrist and turned off the tap. Steam rose from the tub in what appeared the be the same rhythm as his heartbeat. Was he having another anxiety attack? Marlene wouldn't like it if she had to take him to the hospital again...

Rising to his feet, he reached for the make-up mirror on the vanity. It was a free-standing round affair, a thin rim of blue glass surrounding its circumference. The glass was dull and smooth like it had been washed by years of waves. Herbert though back to the sea-glass he and Marlene found on the beach during their honeymoon. It seemed like ages ago. He smiled briefly, until he remembered how that vacation ended.

Herbert lifted the round mirror to his face for the first time ever. To his horror his nose appeared to be elongated and bulging at the sides, his pores dark caverns filled with unflattering bodily oils. It must be magnified on this side, he thought to himself as he flipped the mirror around. Why would women want to intensify their flaws? No wonder they had insecurity issues. No wonder he was so miserable. No wonder half the male population of the city seemed to be homosexual.

"Herbert, stop zoning out with my mirror and fetch me some fresh towels," Marlene nagged. He hadn't even heard the bathroom door open. Maybe that doctor was right. The episodes seemed to be getting worse. No one would have to know about the prescription. No one but Marlene, of course.

"Sorry, dear," he plaintively replied. "I'll be right back."

By the time Herbert returned from the linen closet his wife was already in the tub. Five years into their marriage they stopped making love, eight years in she stopped undressing in front of him, and now she barely admitted to having a vagina at all. As long as things flowed undisruptedly Herbert didn't mind so much. He'd gone without sex for most of his youth; he could manage again in middle-age.

"Marlene, I...I'm sorry to have to ask this, but I really have to..."

"Oh, go ahead and use the toilet, you brute. You had all day to urinate! Why'd you have to wait for me to get home? You know how important my bath is to me, but you completely forgot to have it ready. Now I'll have to hurry if I'm going to catch the beginning of my shopping program..."

Checkmate. The shopping show. If a life-sized queen were in the room he would've knocked it over, preferably right onto his loving wife reclining in the tub.

"...and make sure you sit down while you do your business. I don't want to hear that awful tinkling sound while I'm trying to unwind after a hard day's work. Work. Ha! Remember when you used to do that, Herbert?"

His blood pounded in his temples as he sat on the toilet seat biting his lower lip until he tasted copper. The blow-dryer was still plugged into the outlet next to the sink. Maybe he could toss it into the tub and make it look like an accident. Hell, even prison would be better than this, he thought.

Once the final drop was squeezed he stood and buttoned his pants. It'd only be two hours until he got to go to sleep. That was the only thing keeping him from a jury of his peers and a twenty-year sentence in a medium security country club.

"You're not going to leave that in there, are you?" Marlene asked snidely, shattering Herbert's pleasurable prison fantasy. "Flush that vile stuff!"

"Sorry, my love," Herbert replied in a tone far from autonomous. He pushed the lever down and the contents of the bowl splashed out onto his leg as the violent flush cycle commenced.

"Now look at what you've done to your pants, you slob!" Marlene yelled, her hair lathered with shampoo. "You've truly gotten worse, Herbert. These zombie spells of yours are starting to worry me. Maybe it's time..."

He wasn't listening anymore. His Happy Place descended onto his consciousness like a warm blanket. Seaweed, Herbert thought to himself. He wanted to be reborn as a tiny clump of seaweed waving gently on the ocean floor. Even at the Jersey Shore.

"...and when you're done putting those filthy pants in the laundry basket why don't you go and call that plumber friend of yours and see if he can come fix our toilet tomorrow?"

"Joe's not in town, Marlene. He and his wife went..."

"Oh, for crying out loud! Enough with the excuses. Why can't I have a normal marriage with a responsible husband who takes me on vacations like Mrs....Mrs...What's Joe's last name again? Herbert? Herbert, come back here!"

As he cut the cable connection behind the television set Herbert Krinkstrom smiled knowing he didn't have any electrician friends. Marlene would have to lie through her lipstick tomorrow on her coffee break at work when the other women chatted about those stupid shopping shows.