The Final Wife

There were five wives.

The first wife, the oldest, would keep the money for the man.

She’d count it on her hand and she never missed a dime.

The man trusted her with every penny he made.

And every penny that he didn’t.

The second wife, the tallest, would clean the house for the man.

There was no end to the supplies she made and every corner was spotless.

The third wife, the dumbest, would watch the children for the man.

She’d play with them and bathe them and tell them stories at night.

She’d even swat them on their legs with a twig if needed, then cuddle them up and feed them treats afterwards.

The fourth wife, the prettiest, would massage the man.

She had a way of soothing him, whispering in his ear and washing his feet.

She usually made the children, but she didn’t know any of their names.

The fifth wife, the final wife — she did nothing.

One day she’d be writing, another day singing to the children, and the next day taking a nap.

Soon, the second wife complained. “Why must I always clean, like her hands are painted on? She never help clean, yet she make the most mess — more mess than the children!”

The first wife responded, “Hush now and clean.”

The third wife complained, too. “And she always distract the children during bath time but never help. She just a big ol’ kid, and she never help me change their clothes or wipe their faces!”

The first wife responded, “Hush now and keep that baby from cryin’.”

Later on, the fourth wife complained. “She never take the night shift, but she always free. I never get a break, and she never pitch in — she could pitch in once. My hips hurt!”

The first wife scoffed and stated, “Hush now and go back to rubbing his feet.”

The women grew restless — it seemed like every day the final wife got more and more useless, but the first wife always defended her.

Soon, the dumb one made a plan.

While the first wife slept, the dumb one snuck into the place where the money was kept and took a dime.

She hid it under her titty and when morning came, the man left.

The dumb one told the tall one and the pretty one about her plan and they agreed.

The first one counted the money for the man that night.

The man erupted at the sight of the off count and accused her of stealing from him.

The first wife cried to the other women to save her as he knocked her over furniture, but none of them helped.

Instead, most of them snickered while the final wife looked on with her arms crossed.

The man threw the first wife out of the house and she was never seen again.

The dumb one said, “Good. Now we can go to the man and get the final wife kicked out. Then it’ll just be us.”

The three wives went to the porch where the man sat with the final wife and laid out their arguments.

She didn’t cook or clean, they said.

She didn’t make him feel good, they said.

She didn’t give him any babies and she never took care of the ones he had, they said.

The man chuckled slowly, raising his pipe to his mouth.

“So, y’all women want me to get rid of her, huh?”

“She ain’t doin’ nothin’,” the pretty one growled.

“She ain’t even got nothin’ to do,” the tall one chimed.

“Just like that old one. She was supposed to take care of the money, and she ain’t even do it right,” the dumb one said, dime still in her titty fold. “This one ain’t got nothing to do, and she still ain’t doin’ that right!”

The man puffed and exhaled a trail of smoke from his nostrils, then he looked at the final wife. 

She said nothing. She just looked out at the fields with a small sigh.

“Alright then,” the man got out of his chair.

The three wives begin to cheer and praise him.

“Oh thank you husband, I’ll cook whatever you like!”

“Thank you husband, you won’t hear a sound from those babies tonight!”

“Oh thank you husband, I’ll make you feel alright!”

But the man didn’t reach for the final wife. 

The man reached for the dumb one.

And he threw her off the porch and all the children ran around her, laughing and throwing pebbles and flowers.

Then the man threw the tall one the same way.

The pretty one begged, but the man threw her out too.

Covered in dirt with only a dime to their names, the three wives pleaded and asked for another chance.

The dumb one finally said, “But I don’t understand. She don’t do nothing!”

“She ain’t got to do nothin’,” the man locked the screen door and blew out another pile of smoke. 

“She’s my wife.”