The word Quisling came a courtin’ making me take pause. A traitor, collaborator, colluder, sympathizer; turncoat, deserter, double-crosser, defector, Judas, snake in the grass…one who conspires against.
Let’s call it what it is…a quisling is a real backstabbing shit.
Quisling comes from the name of Major Vidkun Quisling (1887–1945), the Norwegian army officer and diplomat who ruled Norway on behalf of the German occupying forces 1940–45 who blew their cover, the little rat. He should only know he coined a word making him infamous for all eternity.
Benedict Arnold makes a cameo, that charmer spying on us for the British, a name synonymous with “traitor.”
Along with Ben, my roster of cheatin hearts are marching out like a conga line.
My best friend from high school I caught red-handed giving my boyfriend a hand, as it were, while I hyperventilated in the doorway. I heard she got really fat. Come on, that was only fair.
A guy I lived with who was schtupping a barmaid every Thursday night after closing telling me he’d be a little late. Gives last call all new meaning, doesn’t it. She turned into a lesbian apparently now living with a gal named Doreen who sells high-end farm feed.
Don’t ever underestimate the joys of finding out what happened to those quislings in your life who thought breach of faith was a Milton Bradley game.
Loyalty is much more nobler than duplicity, deceit, double-dealing and fraud. To swindle one’s trust for a 2 a.m. roll in the hay is kind of pathetic when you think about it.
And I personally don’t think it’s worth getting fat on fancy feed, doesn’t matter how good it may taste.
Words…where would we be without them?
Adrift, lost, disoriented and unmoored.