Home Remedy for Snoring

©Copyright by Jennifer Bradley (Weir), October 31, 1991.

Published in Buffalo's ArtVoice Magazine, December 1991

The train rushed through her numbed state of unconsciousness. Faster and faster it came, louder and fiercer. The woman tried to cover her ears to block out the noise, but her hands were too heavy to lift. Its roar grew more and more thunderous until it finally exhaled in a long piercing whistle. Rita awoke with a start, jerked out of her semi-sleep. The train rumbled on. She glanced irritably over at the man lying next to her.

"Ed", she whispered to him, "Stop snoring." He responded with a grumble and a fart. Sighing, Rita raised the covers and got out of bed. It would be quite a while before she would be able to get back to sleep. She envied her husband his ability to sleep so soundly.

She made her way to the kitchen. Removing the carton of chocolate flavored milk from the refrigerator, she let the door slam noisily. She found a glass and banged it down spitefully onto the counter-top.

Rita took her milk into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Opening the drawer of the table next to her, she pulled out a spiral notebook. "PRIVATE DIARY OF RITA LASKOWSKI--KEEP OUT!!" was written in blocky letters across the top. She leafed through it until she found the first blank page. August 3rd, 3:00 am, she wrote.

Can't sleep tonight. Ed is snoring again. He sounds like a train.

Ed got a promotion at work today. He is now foreman of his crew at the steel mill. We celebrated. I made his favorite meatloaf and we opened up a bottle of that good wine. That White Zinfandel stuff that isn't even white--more of a red color, but it tasted good all the same. Ed didn't care much for it. He had his usual beer. He says we shouldn't waste money on stuff like wine because it makes me start acting all snooty-tooty. He doesn't like when I try to do new things. Like last week when I served him that new-fangled chicken curry dish. He took one bite and spit it out, and then ended up eating the leftover tuna casserole. He says I'm useless all day long so the least I can do is to make the food he likes.

As Rita wrote, her eyelids grew heavier. She closed the book and replaced it in its spot in the drawer. When she returned to the bedroom she was annoyed to see that Ed had sprawled diagonally across the bed. There was little room for her to lie down. She inched her way into her side of the bed, letting her feet dangle off the side a bit. Ed was on his back again, so she knew it was only a matter of time before he would begin snoring again. If she could get to sleep before he started, then it might not bother her.

Rita leaned back against her pillows and concentrated on falling asleep. Closing her eyes, she began counting backward from one hundred.

99,98,97...83,82...SNORE!!!

The spell was broken. Rita pulled her pillow up around her ears trying to block the sound of his wheezing. Sweet Jesus, she thought, he sounds like an elephant with asthma. Leaning over, she pinched Ed's nose lightly. He let out a little gasp and started breathing normally through his mouth. She didn't like doing that trick. Although it usually worked, sometimes his arms would flail out and hit her.

Rita went back to trying to fall asleep. She counted sheep, but then pondered on the stupidity of that. Why a dumb useless animal like sheep? Why not cows or horses or dogs? The sheep transmuted into elephants, and then into rhinoceroses, and then into meatloaf. The meatloaf flew through the air over her head and into Ed's open mouth. Some of the meatloaf became tuna fish casserole, all flying through the air and being swallowed by Ed. He chomped furiously and loudly trying to eat them all. Chomp chomp chomp. His chomping was loud enough to wake her out of her reverie.

Oh Christ, she thought. He's doing that annoying smacking again. It was actually kind of comical. It reminded her of the sound her mother's dog used to make when he finished eating. "Ed", Rita hissed, "Shut up!"

He stopped smacking and chomping and licking his lips, but resumed snoring. She was getting angry. She was exhausted, but how could she be expected to sleep in this racket? Bracing herself, she jammed her elbow hard into his side. He didn't budge, but Rita's elbow began to smart. She buried her head into her pillow to muffle her cry of pain. All those years of eating meatloaf and drinking beer had turned him into a solid man.

Ed's snoring droned on, intermingled with that incessant smacking noise and an occasional fart. The farts weren't smelly, just loud, and she could feel them against her leg. The realization that she had married a total slob dawned on her. A selfish, disgusting, bossy pig of a man. Well this pig wasn't going to ruin another night of her sleep! Snore, chomp, fart. Rita grabbed her pillow and placed it over his face. She laid back down renewing her determination to sleep. Unbelievably, the wheezing sounds still came, muffled beneath the pillow. Glancing over, she noticed that the pillow was moving rhythmically up and down with his breathing. She laid her head on top of the pillow. That quieted him a bit. Ah, peaceful silence. She was at a rather odd angle, her torso contorted to keep the pillow on his face, but at least she could get some rest. Sleep finally came to Rita after a few more minutes.

Rita woke up the next morning to find Ed still and cold. She discovered that she felt no sadness or remorse, only a mild sort of relief that she would finally have the whole bed to herself. With a giggle, she pushed him to the far side of the bed. She decided to wait a bit and enjoy some more sleep before calling the police.

Several hours later, when the sheriff came, she confessed to smothering her husband. It surprised her when he handcuffed her and carted her away in his police car. She had expected more sympathy for her sleepless nights.

Rita was sentenced to ten years in the women's state penitentiary. She accepted the judgement with optimistic determination. After all, she would not have to cook any more of that horrid meatloaf or give in to his sweaty grunting needs. Best of all, she would always be assured of a good night's sleep.

It was late the night Rita arrived at her prison. All of the inmates were asleep. The guard led her to her cell, and as Rita entered she noticed a figure huddled under the covers in the bottom bed of the bunk. The figure didn't wake up, but continued on sleeping silently. Rita assumed she'd meet her cellmate in the morning. Stripping down to her underwear, she climbed into the top bunk. Immediately she fell into a deep slumber, the sleep that she had been longing for.

The train was back, climbing up from the depths of her nightmare. Its sounds grew louder and louder, climaxing in a scream, dying, and beginning again. The train thundered toward Rita, closer and closer until it threatened to knock her down. Rita awoke suddenly and sat up. Yet the train continued on. Meatloaf and tuna fish casserole flew through the air and landed in the mouth of the woman sleeping beneath her. Smack Smack Chomp!