Morty and Meddy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


It's never too late for love...never

Submitted: October 01, 2017

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Submitted: October 01, 2017

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Morty sat on the couch in his computer date’s apartment. "A quality settee”, he thought, as he ran his hand across the fabric. "Can’t buy them like this anymore", he said out loud as she was giving him a little PG-rated show through her cracked bedroom door. He heard her grunt an answer as he sat there staring at her fish tank. It was an odd decorating choice, having a large aquarium without any fish in it. It did have the usual miniature structures and greenery though. Perhaps she was getting it ready for fish later. Meddy was a very talented sculptor, if the works she had displayed around her apartment were any measure. There were small and medium-sized animals, and a few macabre looking busts of men. In the corner was a life-size sculpture of a nude man that looked pretty new. By the looks of the mess around it, she had just applied the finishing touches. It was uncomfortably explicit, and at least one of the details made Morty feel a little inadequate. He spied her chisels and other "tools of the trade" lying on a cart next to it. “Ready to go”, she said as she came out of her bedroom. Meddy, probably short for a family name, looked quite stunning. Her face was made up to perfection, and it gave her the look of a beautiful porcelain doll. With her dark sunglasses, that she also wore on her profile picture, she reminded him of an old-time, reclusive movie star. The apartment was dimly lit, so he assumed she must be light sensitive. She always had them on, even when she greeted him, and then throughout their date. He still felt lucky that she had agreed to see him, but tempered his excitement with memories of the wife he buried just months ago.

The two really hit it off, and had a lot in common. The vintage furniture she had in her apartment wasn’t dissimilar to what his was furnished with. They both turned out to be traditionalists who felt like, perhaps, they were living in the wrong era. She spoke with an elegance, almost unheard of in this day and age. Morty couldn't have been happier with his date! After a few drinks at the bar and a nice dinner, she suggested that they go back to her place to talk some more. As they sat together on her nice couch, Meddy curled her legs underneath her bottom, and hung on every word Morty said. After three or four glasses of an exquisite, vintage wine, the two thirty-something’s came together for a kiss. It was nice, and, as one thing led to another, Morty soon found himself lying in bed waiting for Meddy to join him.

He could hear something clanking around and thought that Meddy might be cleaning up the clutter in the living room. "She must have found me more impressive than she expected", he thought, and then mentally patted himself on the back. To his surprise, she appeared in something “more comfortable”, that made him a welcome kind of “uncomfortable”. Oddly though, she carried her tools, bundled in their wrap-around case, into the bedroom with her. They clanked again as she laid them on her nightstand. She also removed her sunglasses, and lay them with the tools after dimming the bedroom light. Morty was busily anticipating the upcoming events with the shapely "Miss Meddy", and decided not to be bothered by her eccentric, almost odd, behavior. Meddy seemed awfully shy and kept her eyes closed tightly during their intimacy. That was, until they opened wide when her "moment" arrived; as the two went about “officially” becoming lovers. Afterwards, they lay there silently for a few minutes, and enjoyed the afterglow of the event. Morty rolled over onto his side and looked into his gorgeous date's beautiful green eyes. She seemed flummoxed about something, but he didn’t dare ask what it was. He knew it wasn't always great the first time, and would just have to suffer along with memories of the “look" she had on her face, and deal with its temporary affect on his confidence.

It was very early, the next day, when Morty woke up in his own bed. He lay there, and couldn't help thinking about his wife's funeral. His subconscious was making its best effort to lay a guilt trip on him for enjoying his time with Meddy. This wasn’t his first go around with his mind making things more difficult than they had to be. He tried, to no avail, to push the thoughts out of his mind. He should have known better because he was, and had always been, loyal to a fault. He thought about the mourners and well-wishers as they walked by and viewed her body for the last time before burial. Everyone expressed their condolences, and their admiration for the man, who put her first in all things. He was "all in" for the last, difficult fifteen years of her life, and forfeited so much to do so. No wife or kids…no life. No one knew that his ninety-year-old “mother” was, actually his wife; his third wife to be more precise. The first two lived into their eighties, and he loved them all completely until "death did they part".

You see, Mortimer C. Wilmington the Third wasn’t a normal guy. He was actually coming up on his two hundred and ninetieth birthday, and had been married almost one hundred and eighty of those years. Every seventh generation of the Wilmington bloodline, perhaps since the beginning of time, would produce one male child who would become immortal. This transition would happen sometime in his mid thirties, and would make that “lucky” person absolutely immune to the affects of age, or anything else that made a normal man mortal. Unfortunately, whatever attributes the person had developed before the change came about, would become a permanent part of who he was. Many males in the Wilmington line would try to prepare for the gift; just in case. They would keep their minds and bodies fit and their grooming standards impeccable. Morty, not so much. His hair was a little thin, and he wasn’t quite as trim as he would like, but overall, he looked like most other, healthy, happy human beings. He had the normal scars, etc., that a rough-and-tumble boy would get during childhood and the adult-formative years. He, and the other "chosen" people he was descended from, had been shot, burned, drowned, and even dropped out of a plane once, without suffering any permanent affects. He had made his peace with it a (really) long time ago, and tried to live as “normal” a life as possible. That included dwelling in a small apartment in an average, middle-class area of town, though his assets included a large estate and hundreds of millions of dollars.

The newly “love entangled” man went on many more dates with Meddy and each time was better than the last. The two of them were lovers, but also great, great friends. He had become very comfortable with this incredible woman, and, actually, thought about seeking something more permanent with her. At their two-month anniversary, the low key couple celebrated by getting dinner and going to her place for “after dinner fun”. As they were “finishing” their romp, he looked down at her, and smiled at the normal, intense, post-coital expression on her face, as she looked up at him. He had gotten used to her twisting up her usually cute face, and staring at him, after the deed was done. It was one of her little quirks that he had grown to look on as endearing; and, possibly, love. Morty spent the night with his "steady" more often than not, but he had things to do in the morning and didn’t want to disturb her routine.

After exchanging a couple of "kissing encores" at her door, the two-hundred-plus-year-old man hummed as he walked down the hallway toward the building’s elevator. He felt really great about how things were going so far with this amazing, beautiful, tasteful lady. Morty, like most men, tried not to over think relationships with women, unless, of course, things were going badly. His "man blinders" may have been his undoing many times, if he wasn't invulnerable to the occasional physical consequences. As he pushed the lift's “down” button though, he had an epiphany! Many "odd" things, about the new love of his life came together all at once in his mind. Like a puzzle, he put the pieces together; the life size statue, the men’s busts, and the animals decorating her place; her obsession with dark glasses. He had seen her take them off while heading into the brightly lit bathroom, so he knew it wasn't an aversion to light. He sorted through the pictures in his mind from the last two months, and came upon the one of the large fish tank. He now noticed what he should have "caught" from the beginning. There were unpainted, stone “carvings” of fish lying on the colored rocks at the bottom! He quickly walked back to her door and knocked. When she opened it up, he looked directly into her sunglasses and saw his reflection. "You, he started...you're a". He didn’t get to finish before she responded with “gorgon”.

Meddy (only offspring of Medusa) laughed as she cried, while sitting on the couch with her “boyfriend” of two months. She'd never had a relationship that lasted past her first trip to the bedroom with an unlucky soul. The obvious logistical problem of her not being able to make eye contact without ending a man’s, or a pet’s life made her existence problematic at best. "The chisels, and the hammer by the bedside?”, he started before she again finished his thought. “You only need to get stuck under hundreds of pounds of stone so many times before you start coming to bed prepared. I decided never to become stranded like that again, after being trapped for hours under a football player back in the Sixties". "The statue in the living room?", he asked. "We never made it to the bedroom", she replied, while successfully muffling a giggle. It turned out that, a couple thousand years ago, the original Medusa had a tryst with one of her victims before “turning” him. He had "courted" her in his own strange way, and she thought she might love him. His death wasn’t on purpose, but “statues happen”, when you're dating a "monster". “My father is still standing in the garden at my home in upstate New York", she said as she looked down at the couch. She finally looked up at Morty and stared intently into his eyes. "They are beautiful dear", he said as he picked up her hand and caressed it. “I don’t get it”, she said as two small, identical snakes made "throat clearing" sounds before making themselves known from their hiding place in her thick hair. “Why are you not a statue?”, she asked. He watched the two “serpents” talking quietly between themselves. Morty thought he was crazy all the times he heard those two conferring with each other. “Those voices in my head, turned out to be voices “on” her head”, he told himself, before telling her the story of he and select members of his kin becoming immortal.

Morty and Meddy got along even better after that day. They spent almost all of their time together for nearly a year before Morty began to think about "popping the question”.  t was just after their eleven-month anniversary, and the two hitchhikers atop his girlfriend's head were talking to Morty, after Meddy fell asleep in his arms. They had turned out to be as "friendly" as their look was "ghastly", and Morty had grown to consider them confidants. He was the only person they had ever had a chance to get a good look at, much less talk to, for more than a split second. “When are you going to make an honest woman of her?”, one of them whispered. Morty had thought about it a lot, and even had a family heirloom ring at the ready. He had removed it from his last wife’s finger before they closed her casket. It was a tradition that he had discussed and cleared with all three of his wives before they passed. Maybe Meddy could be his forever. He looked at his two "best snake friends", put his finger to his lips and said, "ssshhh".

The two ancient lovebirds took a road trip to Meddy’s sprawling estate on the East Coast. It was a nice drive and they discussed, at length, what their "forever" together might entail. Morty was ready to ask for her hand, but wanted to wait for a great romantic moment to do so. When they arrived, Meddy went into the house to go through the considerable "build up" of mail and touch base with the only other person who knew her secret, but didn't end up on display in the garden. Her butler of nearly forty years greeted her, wearing his thick, tinted glasses. He had been legally blind for most of his life and was thrilled, as a young man, to be afforded the chance to care-take the huge home and grounds, after her previous man "disappeared". He had been familiar with the "lady of the house" the longest, and probably knew her better than anyone.

Meanwhile, Morty ventured out alone to tour the breathtaking grounds of the large estate. He estimated that Meddy's fortune exceeded his by far. After looking at several impressive statues that he knew were Meddy's victims, he came upon an area that was surrounded by a huge stone wall. After a little effort, he found his way inside and was aghast by what he saw there. Between "his" Meddy and her mother, they must have ended the lives of thousands (maybe tens of thousands) of people, animals, and the like. Morty was no stranger to taking lives, as he had served, most notably, in the Revolutionary war and both World Wars. He remembered every face (he saw) of the enemy he killed. This was nuts though!! There were “statues” as far as the eye could see, as well as several large piles of broken up stone. He surmised that the piles could be the unfortunate fellows she had encountered while living in the city; many of them lovers she had to "chip" out of her bed. He suddenly realized that Meddy had never, outwardly, shown any remorse about the carnage her and her mother had visited upon so many. The scope and magnitude of the two gorgon's crimes suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks (no pun intended)! "All those poor creatures", he said to himself out loud. He thought about the, possibly, millions of people who might have been born to them, and to their descendants. He felt sick to his stomach. He began to weigh his responsibility to humanity as he walked, almost hypnotized, towards the house. “How could he let this go on anymore?”

Morty didn't even realize that he had picked up an ancient sword, that was sticking in the ground among Meddy and "mom's" victims; people, who were destined to spend eternity inside the walls of the mass, stone "grave" site. He carried it into the house, past her "blind" attendant, and then up a huge, spiraling staircase. He would normally have stopped several times to marvel at the grand workmanship of the old place, but just walked by it all with a "stunned" look on his face. He walked into the second-floor bathroom where Meddy was taking a shower. He couldn’t believe it had come to this. He was about to kill this evil monster; the monster he was so in love with, so the curse could finally stop. He stood there thinking about the terrible sadness he experienced each time he lost one of his hopelessly, mortal wives, as well as the children the first two had bore. He thought about all of his loved ones suffering in their last years. Meddy was his chance to never feel that again! He carefully pulled the curtains back a bit to see where she was standing so his blow would be the most accurate and effective. He pulled the sword over his head and behind him; readying the death strike he knew he had to administer.

Suddenly, he heard both snakes yell at their mistress, with their tiny voices, "LOOK OUT!” Almost simultaneously, the blind caretaker discharged both barrels of a shotgun into Morty's back. He barely flinched, as the wounds completely healed before the gun smoke had cleared. Meddy "snapped" the curtains back and looked at Morty with anger and tears in her evil eyes. She recognized the sword that had ended her mother’s life so long ago. She felt no urge to defend herself, and just stood there, naked and waiting. Waiting for the first man she had the chance to love, to decide whether she was to live or die. Morty thought about the tons and tons of, formerly human, stone statues the garden contained to bolster his determination to wipe this "menace" from the face of the Earth. Instead, he let the sword fall to his side and then drop onto the, now wet, bathroom floor. He sat down on the side of the tub with his back to "his" monster, whose deeds he would have to learn to overlook. The large hole in the back of his suit was still smoking a little from the powder burns caused by the gun's blast. The conflicted, dejected look on his face spoke volumes as he lifted an open jewelry box, with the family ring inside, up where Meddy could see it. Her eyes flared as she smiled broadly. Both serpents seemed to be dancing as they said "YES!" in unison.

It was many, many, many years later, and Morty sat in his Eighteenth Century "easy chair" in front of his TV. He felt lucky to still have it, as it had been in his family for hundreds of years. He was enjoying an old, romantic movie marathon. He hadn't seen his wife, Meddy, for awhile, but wasn't really interested in seeing her again (ever!) if he didn't have to. He had been doing quite nicely living alone, for the several years since he finally left the constantly nagging, smothering, eons-old biddy behind. He said a cuss word under his breath, and paused the program when he heard a knock on the door. He got up and opened it to find a delivery guy standing there with a large crate sitting on a dolly. Morty signed for it, and motioned for the guy to wheel the box inside. He tipped the man, and pushed him out the door, before going to the kitchen to retrieve a hammer and a crowbar from a drawer. He carefully opened just the top front of the "package" and pointed a flashlight inside, while he looked in. He didn't even bat an eye as he saw a stone statue of a man inside holding an envelope. The recently deceased man's fingers broke off as Morty worked to get the paperwork away from him. He saw that it was the subpoena the poor schmuck was supposed to serve Meddy with; compelling her to come to divorce court. "Mr. Immortal" sighed, and then dropped the legal paperwork on the coffee table. He didn't have time for this right now. He had been spending some time on the "dark" web lately, and had to get ready for a casual "night in" with an undead chick who was supposed to come over for "a drink", after the sun set. As he walked toward the bedroom, he was muttering sarcastically to himself..."had the sword in your hand...could have finished it right then and there...".

 


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