Part 2: Thwarting the Grim Reaper

Saturday April 4, 2015 9 p.m. ftsbull@att.net

After grieving for a few months after first wife, Babs, died I became desperate for companionship.
How do you cope with suddenly being alone after 57 years of a happy marriage that was almost like
an addiction? Well, one evening while at my computer I got a call from woman who wanted to speak
to Babs. She was the daughter of old friends and a student in Babs’ 4th grade class. When I
reluctantly had to tell her Babs died, she asked if she could come by and give me a hug. The
long story is in my ebook To Baby Boomers with Love. Briefly, we soon became an item and eventually
married. It was during the third and last year of our marriage that I became aware of the fact that
she was a coffin-chasing predator,and it was during that third year that I began coughing and spitting
up globs of phlegm that a some 6 different doctors could not diagnose.

She was a movie buff, and well-acquainted with the movies Arsenic and Old Lace, and Misery where
Kathy Bates was trying to murder an invalid writer in her care. Sparing you the details, I am convinced
and believe that my new wife, Jeanmarie (Baker) TRIED TO KILL ME TWICE. The first attempt was via the use
of the ant poison SEVIN that contained arsenic, and I later realized she was putting it in the wine I
drank every night along with cheese and crackers just before retiring. That’s why I suffered almost a full
year coughing up phlegm.

The 2nd time she tried to kill me was when she provoked a bloody fight that landed both of us in jail.
It happened one evening after I returned home from racquetball and found all of the many lights and fans
all spitefully turned on because she knew it would provoke me, and it did, real good! Using the racquet
in my hand I smashed all of the artificial flower arrangements she made, and when I got to the bedroom,
there she was, at age 56 and 5 ft. 10 in. tall and weighing 200 pounds glaring at her 82 year-old benefactor
(she was penniless before I met her) at 5 ft. 6 in. and only 155 lbs. Having taken martial arts classes,
she floored me in an instant and plumped down atop me with one of her massive tits covering my mouth.
Instant panic. (The Bitch was trying to SMOTHER ME-A GREAT WAY TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER!) I reached up,
grabbed her hair with my strong right arm and WOUND UP ON TOP OF HER. I told her to quit fighting but
she kept pummeling my face with her fists. Then God intervened knowing I couldn’t handle her if I let her
get up. For some inexplicable reason, I stretched out my right arm and my hand grasped a porcelain
insulator like the ones used on power line poles.

Well, I was furious and desperate, and swatted the side of her head with the insulator to subdue her.
She wouldn’t quit, so the next time I swatted her more directly and harder causing blood to splatter
all over her face and me. Again, to shorten the story, we both called 9-1-1, got handcuffed and taken to
jail. Since it was a “he said/she said” situation, neither of us did real jail time. To keep from
going to trial, I opted for probation and anger management classes, which is another interesting story
I will relate later.

Believe it or not, I don’t regret the experience. I viewed it from the perspective of a writer and sure ’nuff
it’s given me something interesting to experience and write about. Like a bitchy sister-in-law once arrogantly
said to me when she wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do: “What else have you (old man) got to do?”
That was 20 years ago, and it still sticks in my craw!

Arrivederci,
fts