You have wrinkles from old age, white crisp strands of hair climb your eye-lashes. Your imagination after 50 years of marriage is like a stranded pair of mountain climbers stuck upon the steepest ridge. After 50 years of marriage, you start imagining creative ways to kill your spouse. Possible overdose, car break doesn’t function properly; as long as it is clean and the law doesn’t find you guilty. You love him and have served him with all your energy, might, and love.
Last night you stripped off all your clothes, bringing back memories of your first honeymoon. Your stomach was flat but after 50 years it became round. You try to seduce but with no avail. You sprain your toe after taking two steps towards the bed. You hear from the man laying upon the very pillows babies were spawned from, ‘you know I heard after old age, sex is less pleasurable.’ So, you start dreaming of the best ways to kill your husband.
In the morning, after he showers and buttons his shirt for work. Praying that he does not critique your work, you prepare breakfast like it was an ordinary day. You place two pieces of bacon on the right side of the plate, eggs upon the left side of the plate, and lastly grits upon the top middle of the plate. None of this was witnessed, your husband like most men ignore hard work put forth. You imagine you are on a cliff, an avalanche on-coming. Your words within the intellect stuck between two ears and cramped within prison.
Your eyes remind your husband swinging back and forth like a broken swing set found in a South African pre-Apartheid playground. You dream of pulling a Mike Tyson, but this would cause a rush of police cars and law enforcement. You dream of different ways to kill your husband; you buy the sweetest, nicest, and cleanest butcher knife from Walmart. It cost 49.99; not the cheapest price to kill but it was on-sale so how could an old lady refuse?
After years of planning, your dream comes true. One morning after watching an infomercial for a male enhancing drug you start wondering. Your so called curiosity turns into his first near death experience. You need to get away with it yet make sure your husband does not suspect it was you. Your first choice was to switch his Viagra pills with a more deadly narcotic. Your plan went smoothly in the morning. You switched out the pills between the bottles but something went wrong.
Instead of your husband keeling over dead during breakfast he says the one word that you didn’t want to hear, ‘honey, I think you need to drive me to the emergency room.’ You ask why and he shows you why; within his pants is something large enough to fill and remove the United States national debt. So you failed on the first try. On the way home all you hear is your husband crying over how big the needle was and how much blood the doctor removed.
Now, you need to think of a second way to kill your husband. This time it can’t be medication. At night, you watch HBO specials and try to investigate possible suicide deaths. One from car exhaust and another dying from a heart attack. The last time you tried to have sex with him he nearly made you plan your own suicide. This time it will be from car exhaust. You wake up early the next morning. You are not sure how to clog the car’s exhaust. You search the kitchen fridge; pineapple, apples, and cucumbers. You search the cupboards and under the bathroom sink. Towels and tissue rolls; you can’t find any useful tools.
An idea comes to you within minutes of him leaving. You stick several bananas inside of the exhaust pipe. You didn’t think this all the way through but what is the worst that can happen? The car was not parked in the garage this morning, instead it was parked in front of the house. The back exhaust pointing towards the living room window. After you put the bananas which were wrapped inside a paper towel, you pretend to do what you have done for the past 50 years. Prepare breakfast and wash dishes.
This particular morning, your husband did not eat breakfast. He kissed you and left out of the front door in a hurry. The next 5 minutes you never thought was to happen. You hadn’t thought this through. Upon turning on the car, your husband presses his full weight upon the accelerator. The wrapped bananas fly out screaming from the back exhaust pipe; they explode on impact through the front window and hit the vase which contained your mother’s ashes. This particular vase slams against the floor and your mother’s ashes cover the oak floor.
The first time you tried to kill your husband failed, now the second time failed worse. You needed to clean up the mess and draw up the last and final attempt on how to kill your husband. It can’t be full of tricks or complicated procedures instead it has to be simple and easy. You have made up your mind, you will kill him in his sleep with his own pillow. After killing your husband the next step is to kill yourself before the cops arrive three days later because of how bad the stench is coming from your home.
This particular night you patiently waited for your husband to sleep. You made sure to stay quiet but your husband refuses to sleep. Instead, he sits across from you not blinking or looking away. He brought out a box. You think twice if you should run or stay sitting? Your husband takes the top of the box and hands you a 38. Both of you decide to participant in Russian Roulette.
Your husband expressed courtesy, ‘ladies first’. You put the barrel to the side of your head and slowly release and pull the trigger, ‘CLICK’. Nothing happens, the 38 didn’t fire and you survived. Your husband takes the gun and has a tireless expression. You have confidence and believe you are gifted with immortality. You decide to sit next to your husband. You hold the 38 and cock the trigger, holding the 38 close to your dome, you pull the trigger, ‘POP’…