Ah, success.
Viktor Davis smiled to himself.
He had been fascinated by power all of his life, and in the Wife and
Kids he had found its greatest manifestation in human society. He turned
and regarded his readership once more.
A bright-eyed fellow in a dark-blue suit - his shirt lightly starched,
his red-and-black-striped tie neatly pressed - locked eyes with Viktor
Davis. He smiled and in his smile there was great pity. Over his
shoulder there was visible a slim, young woman with green eyes. She
lapped delicately at the open wound within the desiccated remains of his
temple. "I understand what you're talking about," he said. "We know this
couple, see? Man, they are just the absolute picture of what you
described. What you don't realise is that there are good women in the
world. You just haven't found the right one, yet. That's all."
Viktor Davis took a drag from his cigarette and expelled a series of
small smoke rings. The bright-eyed fellow and Viktor Davis stared into
each other's eyes for a period of several seconds. One corner of the
bright-eyed fellow's smile twitched slightly and the merest trace of
anxiety crossed his features. The slim, young woman took a deep bite
from the wound. He closed his eyes and the smile broadened. "You'll
see," he said, leaning towards her. "You'll see."
Viktor Davis turned back to his typewriter and his pile of notes, which
he began thumbing through absent-mindedly. One of the scrawled
observations on a torn piece of yellow-lined notepaper caught his eye.
The Male Light and the F