Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Duncan was tossed in one of the dungeon cells by Sorath, his guise as Jesus still in place. Sorath glared at the mortal but in his present form, one wouldn’t notice since he portrayed the look of love and understanding, but Duncan could feel his gaze as it was burning with malice. Duncan lie on the floor and smirk at his captor as he mocked, “What, no bed for your honored guest?”
“Count yourself lucky I didn’t drop you from the sky on our way here.”
“Is that what Jesus would do? Fly around the world, dropping people like bombs. Huh, I could’ve sworn that He was all about love and compassion.”
“It is not your place to question a God like me?” Sorath jutted his chin out, “Soon you will be judged for your crimes against the righteous and all that stands for good and decency, then punishment will be met out accordingly.”
Duncan goaded - “Well I’m so glad you took the suspense out of the verdict. My punishment will be what, crucifixion? I’m sure that you nailed that one back in the day…oh wait that was the real Jesus! Not some Messiah wanna-be fallen angel with daddy issues.”
Sorath only stared at Duncan before walking away, silently fuming. His punishment will be much worse than a crucifixion, Sorath thought, that would be going too easy on the mortal and he had to be made an example for his followers to witness. All will know what happens to those who attack us! This world will be cleansed soon enough of the filth that got left behind. From his cell, Duncan cried out while laughing, “You might want to fix that nose of yours. I wouldn’t want you to look so ungodly during my farce of a trial!”
“You hit hard for a mere mortal, but that tongue of yours won’t get me to make your eventual death quick and swift. Before you die, you will know the definition of pain.”
Duncan let out a belly laugh as he replied, “I’m married, so I’m fairly certain that whatever you dish out will pale in comparison!” Sorath was back in Duncan’s face, holding him up off the ground by his throat. Duncan felt like his head was going to explode as Sorath psychically probed his mind as well as light-headed from the lack of oxygen. He gasped as he struggled to suck in air while his lungs were screaming out for it. Sorath’s eyes glowed a harsh crimson red as he probed deeper into the recesses of Duncan’s mind.
Sorath let loose his grip and let Duncan drop hard on the floor. He had a harsh coughing fit as he inhaled the sweet taste of air and could breathe once more. Sorath backed out his cell with a smile on his face. Duncan glared at the false Jesus and charged at him. Before Duncan made it to Sorath, his body was repelled backwards by an unseen force that knocked him back against the far wall. The fallen angel laughed as Duncan tried to get up but was wobbly on his feet.
“Did you really believe there was nothing there to keep you in this cell?” Sorath asked with amusement, “You mortals are all the same, head strong and never thinking. It’s so amusing to see this happen so why don’t you try again.”
Duncan gave up on standing and slid down the wall to sit on the floor while flipping Sorath the middle finger. Sorath voice lost all amusement as he said, “Yes I know of your marriage, I seen it all in that barbaric brain of yours. Trust me, my punishment will be fitting for one such as you. You will not enjoy a second of it.”
“I’d enjoy it if you would shut up and leave, your boasting is giving me a headache. Do you get off on pretending to be Jesus? I mean why this whole charade when obviously you could destroy all of humanity without much of an effort?”
“Because everyone has a part to play in life. Mine is to be the Messiah your people want and crave to have, but you…You are nothing more than a nuisance that’s in need of extermination.”
“If humanity is so terrible, then why steal people to keep all to yourself?” Duncan pointed out.
“All Gods need worshipers so I took those who wanted me and they pray and grant me tribute daily.”
“You mean they worship Jesus, not you?” Duncan snorted, “I bet it sucks that they can’t fully worship the real you and if they knew of your deceit, they’d probably rip you to pieces.”
“Even if they knew my true nature, they would have no choice but to accept me because I own them all.”
“If that’s true, then why keep up the ruse?” Duncan gave the fallen angel a knowing look. Sorath seemed unable to answer so he left. Duncan had a feeling he hit a raw nerve with the fallen angel but was surprised there was no response or another rant on how he was above humans. Maybe he had no choice and had to remain in this form? Either he fears what his followers would do if his true nature was revealed or he enjoy playing a false God.
Duncan knew that his time here wasn’t going to be pleasant so why should he make things easy for his captors. He looked around his cell and noted that it was made from solid gold and that there was absolutely nothing in it. No bed to sleep on, no sink to wash his hands after he did his business in the…Duncan raised his eyebrows, no toilet! Not even a bucket to go in! Did his followers not go to the bathroom? Duncan had no problem with using the bathroom in the woods or out in the open but he was expected to sleep in here.
If I’m to be forced to sleep in my filth, then I will make it a pain on those who come in here, Duncan grinned as he got up and walked over to the invisible energy field. He undid his belt, dropped his pants, and kicked them out of his way. Duncan grunted as he pushed as much stool out as he could and then moved down and did it again. When he was done, Duncan stood up and pissed by the energy field. The energy field didn’t let any of his urine escape, it only sparked where it touched. Duncan regretted putting it there because he never knew piss could smell worse as it sizzled. Duncan walked over to one of the doorway columns and used the corner to wipe and scrape his ass. It wasn’t the best job but he was going to die, what did it matter? As he finished and walked over to grab his pants, Duncan heard the soft sounds of whimpering and crying. He slung his pants on and fastened his belt while intently listening. A soft voice tugged at his heart and filled him full of rage as it said, “I want my real mommy! I want to go home!” There were children down here! Imprisoned like himself, but why?
Duncan leaned against the doorway pillar and looked down the hallway. There was a larger holding cells with a wider doorway where he was tiny figures crawling around or lying on the floor. So many children…what fucking crime did they commit to deserve such a fate, Duncan growled inwardly. Duncan slung his fist at the energy field and it made a buzzing sound but didn’t fall. It made his hand tingle but it didn’t bounce his attack off like it did when he went head long into it a few minutes ago. He made up his mind that he would somehow bust out of this jail and get those poor children to safety and then he would come back and rip Sorath’s wings and head off. How could a person do such cruel thing to children? What twisted the former angel of God to inflict so much pain on this world?
Sorath marched up the stairs that led to his private chamber with a turbulent flow of thoughts that preoccupied his mind. He had to make an example out of this Duncan Morgan but what to do in case Purah happened to see him being punished. Would she remember him since they were intimate once? I can’t lose her to a mortal! Maybe I should have her shackled for the duration of his punishment. He had been sending out his elite master warriors to gather and command his fallen warriors with good results, except for Sully. Duncan will suffer greatly before he is granted death because his followers had to mourn for Sully and what better way to mourn than take it out on the one who killed him.
Sorath waved his arm and flung the huge double doors open and marched down the corridor to his private chamber. The two guards posted outside of his door snapped to attention as one of them opened the door for him. Sorath stopped and looked at them with his fake façade of love and said, “We have a prisoner who has done a great deal blasphemous act towards our people. One of you go have my replacement elite warrior master gather a group of our fallen warriors and escort the prisoner to the central courtyard for judgment. Gather my flock and I shall be down shortly, I need some quiet time before I go through with this.”
The eyes of both guards sparkled with joy as they both bowed and thanked him as they ran out. Sorath let out a heavy sigh when they were no longer in sight. He walked into his private chamber with Duncan’s words weighing heavily on his mind: They worship Jesus and not the real me. If it didn’t matter then why keep up this ruse? Why indeed he thought as he crossed the room to sit in his wingback chair. Would the people notice if I dropped the charade? Would they even care?
Damn mortal! Sorath sat down as he cursed Duncan for playing some damn mind game with him. Who was he to judge my role in all of this? I gave humanity what it had been craving for centuries and now the people are happy, except the unchosen ones like Duncan who would rather question my authority. Did he not witness my full might as my brothers and Purah helped to cleanse this world of sin? “Duncan should be grateful that he and his ilk are still alive instead of questioning my decisions!” Sorath roared as he squeezed the armrests so hard that they were crushes to a pulp. Sorath steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. He let his mind roam back to all those centuries ago to the moment that he put this plan into action and answer that nagging question as to why he had to constantly remain in the guise of Jesus, even though he had utter control over all of his followers.
Sorath sat silently on a cliff side watching a busy, well-worn road that led into the city of Jerusalem. He concealed his presence from the passing throng of caravans by wrapping his translucent tendril wings around his body. Nothing but sheep and so easily swayed and controlled, he thought, it wouldn’t take much. Today was a day of much excitement in the region, people came from all around to either condemn or defend the one who claimed to be the son of God, a man known as Jesus.
Sorath had watched and studied humanity for a many centuries and no matter what the time period, there was always a constant theme to humans. They were prone to violence and quick to judge before knowing the full truth, gullible to trickery which made them easily deceived. This, in his mind, made humans the best of his Father’s pets to manipulate and gain power. As much as he despised humans, they were the perfect tool to use to spite his Father for casting him and many of his brothers and sisters out of the Heavens.
I refuse to let these hairless apes be better than me, Sorath spat on the ground with hatred, nor do I accept the one known as Jesus to become the savior to my Father’s pathetic mortals. Why should this man have the power to grant salvation? What was wrong with it being given to all who pass away in their mortal life? Sorath knew this was a contentious way of thinking and it was one of the reasons the War in the Heavens began in the first place but he disliked that the mortals would worship another mortal who had been anointed by their Father to make all this possible.
Blasphemy! Humans in charge of their own salvation would be their own undoing. Sorath decided from the moment he and his brothers and sisters fell that he would ensure that this happened. These abominations will do the same thing that they always have done and that was create conflict and kill because that was their true nature. Sorath sneered as he looked down and saw more people walking by all their worldly possessions in tow. They would kill one another and take whatever they wanted, he seen this repeat itself too many times to count. And Father made them in His own image but gave them free will to do whatever they wish and that made each one of them a small speck of a huge plague on this Earth.
Sorath hated being in close proximity but today was a special day, one that he had been waiting for ever since his fall. Sorath’s time was drawing near with each passing breath he took and patience wasn’t one of his stronger virtues. A shift in the wind and the soft sound of footsteps walking towards him alerted Sorath that he wasn’t alone any more. A glance over his shoulder let him know who it was that had decided to disturb his hate-filled musing.
“Your time to rise is almost upon us, brother.”
“Indeed it is Penemuel.” Sorath responded coldly, “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to see you in all your glory and -”
“Penemuel I don’t have time for a winded explanation,” Sorath growled, “just say your peace and be gone from here!”
Penemuel scowled at Sorath as he replied, “You never were one to mince words. Nor did you have a passion for languages or written words like me so I shall let that pass. Remember that I too have a vested interest in all of this and I’ve been writing this story for quite a while now.”
Sorath rolled his eyes – “That’s all you ever do, but why must you be here to irritate me on this important day?”
“I wanted to see the character that you will be playing while he still lives. It will help as I tweak our story. I’ve been spying on him for a while now and I must say, I hope you can fill his shoes properly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sorath glared at the other fallen angel.
“It means when in character, you can’t be flying off the handle in a fit of rage when someone says something that you don’t like.” Penemuel pointed out, not caring if he angered Sorath, “Jesus is a peaceful person that doesn’t go around smiting other because they look at him wrong. I know your temper all too well brother and its difficult seeing you as Jesus so I’ve been working on a way to resolve this ungodly issue.”
“Go on.”
“Not yet, I have to find a couple other things first before I tell you more. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but rest assured I will make this work for all of us.”
“Thanks for nothing.” Sorath grumbled, “So tell me more about this story you’re weaving.”
“I thought you didn’t care to know.”
Sorath sighed in frustration, “I asked didn’t I?”
Penemuel beamed a smile of excitement that made Sorath regret asking him about the subject. He knew that Penemuel got zealous about anything he wrote and had seen this reaction in the past, but this time it was a hundred times worse. Maybe I should flee from here, Sorath thought as he mentally chuckled, Penemuel wouldn’t notice that I’ve gone until next week. Sorath decided to stick it out because he did ask and curious on how their grand plan for humanity would work. He knew he had a central part to play but other than that, Sorath didn’t bother to know because it would take many lifetimes before this day would come. What’s the point in knowing all the details when one would forget them over time? Besides, the fallen angels had Penemuel who love to write and his special quill pen was notorious for creating chaos and wars among other entities. His influence he had on Man was sealed when he taught them how to write, thereby making a link between them that he could influence as he wrote and crafted his own stories.
“My brother, you will be pleased with what I’m about to say because this will be without a doubt the greatest story ever written! Everything else I’ve written to this date pales in comparison and I dare say at a novice level too. Damn, where should I begin?”
“From the beginning is usual where people begin!” Sorath shot back sarcastically. He felt surprised that he did that, but then again Penemuel was pulling him into his own world of excitement that it was possible that it had an effect on him as well. Sorath also noticed that he was grinning on top of that as well, which was an uncommon facial expression for him to do which meant this was a powerful story that Penemuel had been working on for ages and now he could only imagine the affect it will have on the simple-minded humans. They won’t stand a chance.
“In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth.”
“Not THAT beginning, the beginning of your story!”
“But that’s where it starts. Never mind, I will give you the shorten version then. Since we know that our Father wants the man known as Jesus to be the savior of humanity, I decided to write a story centered around him and have other stories added to it to make a tale that will talked about read through the ages. It will be known as the Bible!”
“So what’s so special about this Bible?”
“I’ve had my influence over all those who were intended to right each book in the Bible. They see what happened but when they write it down, it will be from my perspective. All who reads my work of art will have their own take on what was read, meaning ten people will get ten different messages.”
Confused, Sorath asked, “What good would that do us if they read something completely different. Shouldn’t they all read and get the same message?”
Penemuel beamed a toothy grin - “Ah and that’s the beauty of it. There won’t be one singular religion devoted to this book. Since everyone will get a different message, many will branch off and preach their version of the same gospel. It will make a mass of followers that will blow you away, you watch! You will have so many that you won’t know what to do with them all!”
Sorath looked at Penemuel with disbelief. He knew Penemuel was a great spinster when it came to writing, having seen the chaos he creates first hand, but the numbers that he was going on about was unfathomable. Sorath knew humans were easy to play and manipulate but how could one book of testimonials accounts be that powerful? Humans preferred death and destruction than getting along while reading a book. Penemuel must have adding something to this Bible to draw more humans to it so he asked, “As wonderful as that would be, what makes it so special that Mankind will want to read it when they could be out killing one another for fun?”
“Because it will be filled with both a loving God and a wrathful God, worship Him and you have his love but defy His commandments or laws and you get His terrible wrath. Be good and you go to heaven, be bad and you will go to Hell to burn for eternity! I’ve cast Lucifer as the bad guy for this book and he’s on board with it because I didn’t use his name, just calling him Satan or the Devil. I devoted an end of times book devoted to him coming to destroy the world and fight with the savior, which of course, Jesus wins and cast him into the lake of fire to burn along with all who followed him for an eternity, I haven’t quite worked out all the details. Basically anyone who isn’t following Jesus is screwed and doesn’t get take to the Promise Land.”
“Will Lucifer be affected by all this?” Sorath asked. He didn’t want Penemuel to screw Lucifer over because he had a temper and power that could rival his own. He’s a great brother-in-arms but to fight him would be suicide. Penemuel thought for a moment and then said, “No but he may acquire followers of his own. The Bible is set up to be that way, create an adversary that people can hate and rally against. Good versus evil, but it will be so twisted that people will blur the lines on who or what is good or evil, hmm…”
“What?” Sorath asked as he narrowed his eyes.
“That blur could create more chaos and hate as well, that would be interesting to see that play out if it does. I -” The sounds of cheering and roars of defiance mingling together interrupted the fallen angel. They both looked towards the city of Jerusalem and knew it was time for the son of God to go on trial. Penemuel called out as he took to the air, “I need to go see this, so excuse me brother. Remember, meet me in his tomb on the third day.”
“I will do this.”
“Day three or this won’t work so be patience a little longer!”
“I got it already! Do you take me for a human?” Sorath spat out, his frustration coming back in full force as Penemuel was leaving.
Penemuel chuckled - “Not yet brother!” and then he was gone.
Sorath wanted to hurt the other fallen angel but then he wouldn’t get his revenge on his Father for casting them out. So he decided to bide his time and when the opportunity presented itself, he would take not only Penemuel out, but all of the fallen angels. The one he would spare was Purah, she had a damaged mind which he could manipulate and use to his advantage. She will be mine forever as we rule over this pathetic world. Why not? She was petite and one of the most exquisite angels he knew and lusted for her. Her body will bend to my will and her mind will always wipe the slate clean, Sorath smirked.
More humans were shouting louder off in the distance, which told Sorath that the time for Jesus’s execution was drawing closer. From his vantage point, Sorath could see it unfolding before him as he used his angelic magic to enhance his vision. The soldiers were forcing the man to carry his own execution device, a large wooden cross, on his shoulder. He had blood trickling down his face from the wreath that was covered in wickedly sharp thorns. The man was wore no shoes but only had a small piece of fabric that was used as a makeshift undergarment. Yes, Sorath thought, humans were an abomination and quite cruel ones too as several soldiers took turns in lashing him on his back, legs, or wherever they could find flesh to make him move faster and to bleed.
They reached high rising hill area known as “the skull” by the locals because along the side of this rocky formation were cavernous pits that resembled a skull. Sorath watched as the soldiers used the crude method of driving thick nails into Jesus’s hands to the wooden cross, making him howl in pain. Crucifixion was not a pleasant way to die. Sorath had witnessed this more than once and the way one died by this method only spoke to the cruelty of Mankind. It used gravity and one’s own weight to slowly suffocate as their arms pulled from the sockets and once the strength in the legs went out, the person being crucified would be in a perpetual state of inhalation as the rib cage is forced upward. Jesus’s cross was hoisted up and it didn’t take long for him to feel the weight of the world sitting literally on his shoulders. This kind of treatment only reinforced Sorath’s belief that all Mankind should be wiped off this planet. Before Jesus would die from suffocation, one of the soldiers stabbed him with a spear to put him out of his misery. Why not do that in first place? Typical human cruelty, cause the victim to suffer before they die. The soldiers pulled Jesus’s body off the wooden cross and tossed it in a wooden cart to be carried off to his tomb.
On the third day of Jesus’s death, Sorath flew towards the tomb. The entrance was sealed using a huge slab of stone and on guard were two soldiers. Sorath smirked as he was able to slip inside the tomb unhindered using his angelic magic to become a being of energy. Upon materializing, Sorath saw that the tomb was lit up with a small fire and Penemuel setting up several candles around the body of Jesus that set on top of a stone table. He had already inscribed angelic sigils and other ones that Sorath didn’t recognize and for some reason, it made him feel uneasy. Penemuel looked up as he removed the white shroud off Jesus’s body and said, “It’s about time you showed up. I was beginning to wonder if you would.”
“There are humans outside, lower your voice.” Sorath hissed but Penemuel waved off his concern for silence as he replied in a booming voice, “They will hear nothing, brother. I warded this tomb so no sound will be heard. Now it is time to conduct the ritual and for you to take your rightful place as humanities savior!”
Sorath let a smile cross his visage, “Yes…so what do I do?”
“I will recite the incantation and then I shall have you drink his blood which has been tied into the ritual spell work. But first, you need to add your own blood to the goblet.” At a questioning look, Penemuel sighed as he explained, “When his and your blood mix together, it ties you to the blood spell. It marks you as the recipient and is permanent and can’t be undone. It will allow you to intercept all prayers and tributes given in Jesus’s name which will give you the power he would’ve received.”
Penemuel handed Sorath a small knife and the goblet. He calmly cut his palm and let his blood flow into goblet while swirling it to mix the blood. Penemuel waved his hand and all the candles lit up at once and he recited the incantation in the Enochian language. One by one, each sigil flared brightly, illuminating the tomb with a red light. The tomb hummed with energy, causing dust and rock particles to fall all around them, threatening to collapse. Penemuel looked over at Sorath and motioned for him to drink as cried out, “Drink it all and then you must destroy his body, leave nothing but dust! Do it now!”
Sorath put the goblet up to his lips and chugged it down. It tasted bitter and metallic but also had hints of the herbs used by Penemuel. His throat burned as it went down his gullet, making him stagger and his eyes burn from the intensity of the blood spell. He heard Penemuel cry out once more, “Destroy his body now! Complete the spell or it will kill you!”
Sorath haggardly moved over to Jesus’s body and placed both his hands on his chest. He let out a blinding flash of light that instantly vaporized the body, leaving nothing but dust. Sorath caught himself on the stone table, he felt his whole body shaking and vibrating with magic and energy to the point that he believe his head might explode. Penemuel looked him over and gave him a look of approval as he commented, “Stop fighting it and let it take its course. The change will happen quicker if you relax.”
Sorath calmed his mind and body the best he could and in an instant, the magic inside him flowed unhindered, cycling its way everywhere. He looked down and saw that he was now wearing white and crimson red robes instead of his customary crimson armor. His hair darken grew longer and his jaw was now covered in a thick, coarse beard. His skin remained in its unmarred, porcelain color rather than the dark pigment that was customary for the region. Penemuel smiled as he clapped his hands as he said, “And now you are our Father’s savior for humanity! You can shift back into your true form but you must never do so in front of your followers.”
“Why not?”
“It’s faith in you being Jesus that draws them to you, if they see your true form you risk losing most, if not all your power. In other words, the spell is broken and all you will have are broken human. Lost sheep with no purpose and no one to worship or serve. Oh and since I crafted this spell, my sword has the power to undo it. Just in case you get any ideas of wanting to kill me.” Penemuel warned and then became all cheerful as he added, “Now, for a bit of dramatics. Destroy the tomb seal and show to the world that you alive once more…Jesus. After this, you must leave Earth after tell the witnesses outside that you will return one day.”
Sorath snapped back into reality and knew that he was stuck in this form and no matter what he did or said, his followers would only see him as Jesus. He could never be himself around them and it infuriated Sorath. If Duncan Morgan did anything good, it was killing Penemuel. He knew this flaw in the spell had to be of his work as a way to keep me in line and not kill him, Sorath fumed. The mortal almost had him go out and reveal his true nature and that would have destroyed everything. He grinned as he heard his flock gathering in the center courtyard, they zealous hatred fueling him as they awaited the arrival of the prisoner.
Duncan sat on the floor with his back against the wall and his arms draped over his bent knees as he kept thinking of ways to bust out of his cell and rescue the children but no answers were revealing itself to him. He let out a heavy sigh as the burden of helplessness started to crush down on his weary shoulders. That damn angel had to die and if Duncan couldn’t find a weapon to strike him down, he’d tear that prick’s head off with his bare hands. The exhaustion got the better of him and he nodded off. The sound of feet shuffling in the corridor stirred Duncan from his sleep. How long did I sleep? Was it day or night now? It sounded like a small group of people, maybe an escort for him. If these guards were here to take him to wherever Sorath wanted him to be tried and judged, then his window of opportunity has arrived. Duncan hopped up to his feet and got into a fighter’s stance. His body tensed as his heart pumped with adrenaline for the impending fight. What’s the worse they will do, kill me? Duncan had a feeling that these guards were under strict orders from Sorath to get him to his trial alive so why not make it rough on the bastards. His inner voice started to repeat the same words over and over again.
DEATH…ABUSER!
The energy field lowered so Duncan braced himself to lunge at the first person walk over the threshold and slips on his front door present. Duncan’s eyes bulged as he witnessed a small group of ghouls meandering into his cell, their vacant eyes and quivering, slimy lips hungrily locked on him. Panic gripped his mind as thoughts of being eaten alive for a second time was about to become his reality. There was at least a dozen ghouls and they were making the cell smaller, giving Duncan a claustrophobic anxiety on top of his heighten emotional state. He wanted to use his magic but with the children nearby and the fact he had little control over it, Duncan couldn’t risk it. Several of the ghouls grabbed Duncan and shoved him into the center of the cell where they surrounded him, snapping their jaws.
“What are you dead fucks waiting for? C’mon! Eat me already!”
As one, the ghouls closed in all around Duncan so he started to throw punches and a few kicks to fend them off. They grabbed each of his limbs and ripped away at his clothes, peeling them off like a child shredding a piece of paper. Their sharp fingernails scratched and scraped Duncan’s skin but that was all they did, no biting nor tearing chunks of flesh off. This wasn’t right, Duncan thought, Chouls don’t worry about one’s clothes getting in their way when they feed! What the hell is going on! Once Duncan was naked, the ghouls let him go. As he lie on his shredded clothing, a female voice echoed in cell from somewhere. Duncan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the unseen woman squeezed past a several ghouls to look at Duncan and calmly commanded, “Good work, he’s now ready for his judgment. If he should try anything, feel free to remind my dear sweet Duncan who’s in charge.”
Duncan couldn’t believe his eyes, the woman talking to the ghouls with hateful gleam in her eyes was the one his inner voice was screaming abuser at him. Pamela, Duncan thought as his heart seemed to stop, my wife!