“First . . . I’ve got to get a gun that can’t be traced back to me,” Marcos Duendes thought to himself as he ruminated on how he was going to find and confront Dr. Uglisky for raping his young wife, Priscilla, when she was pregnant with their baby girl, Dolores, while he was away on duty in the United States Army that he had joined only to try and make a better life for himself and his new little family.

“He’s gonna confess to ME,” Duendes thought, the same thought that he had been picturing in his mind over and over again ever since he had found on Dolores’ hospital records that she had been delivered by a man, Dr. Uglisky, and not by the female midwives in Mexico who Priscilla had promised him she would use so that no other man would ever see, let alone touch, her private parts that only he as her husband should ever see or touch. But Priscilla had lied to him. She confessed that to him in tears when he showed her the birth records that he had found in her dresser drawer hidden underneath her panties in their bedroom in her parents’ house where they lived while he was stationed out of state on duty. Priscilla told him that she was afraid to have the midwives in Mexico give her prenatal checkups and to deliver Dolores.

“What if something was wrong during my pregnancy or went wrong during Dolores’ delivery?” Priscilla had implored her strange husband with his queer thoughts to understand why she had lied to him and used an American obstetrician instead of the Mexican midwives. “And Dr. Uglisky was sooooo professional during the prenatal exams, Marcos, and so good during the delivery,” Priscilla said. “He was so good down there that I didn’t even tear during the delivery. Nothing is wrong with me. Nothing happened, Marcos!” she had begged him to believe her.

But Marcos didn’t believe his pleading bride. She had lied to him once. How could he know that she wasn’t lying again to him now?

“NO!” Duendes concluded, ”The only reason that she’s saying what she’s saying about Dr Uglisky now is so that I won’t go and kill him . . . and her.”

Marcos wasn’t sure yet whether he would kill Dr. Uglisky or just get him to confess his filthy sins to satisfy what his family honor now demanded. But he did know one thing . . .

“I’ve gotta get a gun,” Marcos thought to himself.

[Disclaimer: This is fiction, not fact.]