245 - disc chalk

ncomfortable silence hung over the small table in the kitchen nook. Problems had been brewing in the relationship between Hal and his wife Betsy for some time now. He shifted the morning's newspaper around in one hand while alternating between bites of toast and sips of coffee with the other.

Hal's view of Betsy was completed obscured by the newsprint, but he could still feel her eyes burning with contempt straight through the pages. As sad as it was, Hal realized that uncomfortable silence was, at this point, a win. He polished off his toast and took a final, large swig of his coffee to finish it as well.

He did not worry about finishing the article his eyeballs had been scanning over. The newspaper had been just another prop, an aid to try and hold their marriage together. He folded it back along its midline crease, still not making direct eye contact with Betsy despite it now being possible.

"Well, I guess I'm off," Hal said as he rose from the table. "Another busy day today."

For a moment, Betsy held her tongue, her eyes following her husband as he headed over to his work satchel sitting on the nearby kitchen countertop. When she saw Hal inspecting his bag, though, she could no longer contain herself.

"Is everything all right there?" Betsy asked as Hal was in the midst of thumbing through the contents of the satchel. The question was innocent enough, possibly even coming from a place of genuine concern, if it hadn't been for the tone in her voice.

So much for the win of uncomfortable silence, Hal thought.

"Everything appears to be in order," he answered earnestly. He still had hope that he could escape without things deteriorating much further.

"All your bullshit tools are there?" Betsy immediately shot back. This comment was finally enough to get Hal to make eye contact with her. The fire in her eyes still burned bright.

Still unsure what her endgame was in this line of questioning, Hal responded with how he really felt: "What?"

Betsy's face reflected the slightest of smirks, sensing that she might have struck a nerve. "All your 'tools' that you use to do your work. It's bullshit, all of it, right? Just a big scam? I'm married to a conman, aren't I?"

Hal chuckled to himself, half in an attempt to defuse the situation and half because he could hardly believe this newfound angle of attack that Betsy was employing against him.

"Sure, Betsy. Next you'll be telling me that the doctors and the medicine they prescribe are big scams, too. What I do is science. I don't fault you for not understanding it completely," he began.

"Science!" Betsy interjected. "Dowsing isn't a science! You're doing nothing more than making guesses, educated guesses at best!"

She lunged toward him, grabbing his satchel before he had a chance to react. From the bag, she produced his two primary dowsing rods, holding them to Hal's face to taunt him.

"Betsy, please!" Hal implored. "Those are delicately-tuned instruments!"

She laughed. "These are L-shaped rods of metal! Nothing more! Don't worry, I'm quite sure that, as your loving wife, I can fashion you another set quite easily if some harm comes to these."

Hal resigned to spectating his wife as she held the rods in her hands, imitating his method. She made the rods start to jump slightly. "Oh! I think I'm divining something!" she exclaimed.

As she neared Hal, the rods moved more and more, until they crossed each other as she stood at his side.

"A vein of pure bullshit, right here!" Betsy shouted.