#57 LOVE Joe slammed the door so hard; a wedding picture fell from the wall and crashed to the floor breaking the glass. Marie, his wife of two weeks, tearfully crouched down, and her finger got sliced as she attempted to pick the shards up. “Now look what you've done.” She looked accusingly at Joe. “No, look how stupid you are.” Tears rolled down her face. “What're you talking about?” “Any idiot knows enough to use a vacuum to pick broken glass out of carpeting.” “There you go again, blaming me. If you'd control your temper, I wouldn't be picking up broken glass.” She said in between sobs. Joe took her cut hand and wrapped his handkerchief around it, kissed her fingers, put his arms around her, “I'm sorry baby. You know you're my one and only, and I would allow no one to harm you in any way.” He kissed her tears away. Marie wondered why she had never seen the psychotic side of him before she married him. She had dated him for six months, and only on Sundays. They'd go to church and afterward have brunch, go to a movie, go to her place, have great sex. Joe was always kind and considerate to her and everyone else. His demeanor is what convinced her he would be a great husband. She eagerly accepted his proposal to elope so they could be married without a long wait. Marie wasn’t so sure he wasn't like her father who had killed her mom because he couldn't control his temper. Vowing to never date any man who ever expressed his anger in a violent way, Marie found three days after the vow, she had done just that. She cooked Joe's breakfast. He took one look at it and flung it against the wall. “You should know by now how I like my eggs cooked.” That was when she decided the marriage had to end. “We made a mistake. I'm going to find my own place.” “You belong to me. I'm not possessive, but don't ever forget that my love is so strong that I could never allow another to take my place and treat you as well as I do.” His reply sent chills down her spine. “Don't worry, after this experience, I don't want any part of another man.” “How will you get along without me? I correct all your mistakes, and when you get out of line I slap your face. If your dress doesn't suit my taste, I let you know. When I slam the door in a rage, and you cry for something you don't have, you realize how lucky you are because you have me.” “Unlucky you mean.” She saw his face turning red and knew she had said the wrong thing. “What the hell do you mean? I'm the one who loves you so much that I'll do anything to show you it's so. The day you think that you're better off without me, I'll set you free my dear.” “Will you, really?” “Sure, but I want you to know that no other man will want what remains of your pretty face.” After Joe had left for his job as a bouncer at a gentlemen's club, she wondered how she could have gotten herself into this predicament. Stupid, stupid. She pounded her head with the palm of her hand. Picturing her mother lying on the bloody bed, she decided she would not let the same thing happen to her. She went to the medicine cabinet and took out the Ambien she had been taking since her mother's murder to help her sleep. Marie put all 30 pills in the blender and added a double shot of Joe's whiskey. He always downed the double shot he told her she better have waiting for him as soon as he walked through the door. She watched the blender dissolve them into the liquid. She set the glass on the table where she always had it waiting for him. A smile crossed her face and then a frown. That many pills would surely kill him, but would the police suspect her? An accident, it has to be an accident. Not only so she doesn't go to jail, but so she would collect double indemnity for accidental death. Joe had proudly pointed that out to her when he showed her where he kept his records, “In case I have an accident babe, you'll be taken care of,” he had said. She'd wait until the pills took effect and then make it appear that he had fallen asleep while smoking and set the bed on fire. They wouldn't suspect her. It was time for her afternoon bath. Joe had insisted she take a bath at three every afternoon. An hour before he came home. She enjoyed a hot bath, so she didn't mind complying with his request. She lay back in the warm water picturing Joe lifting the glass from the table and swallowing the whiskey. Then he'd slump down and die. She smiled. Then she heard the door open. Joe came into the bathroom carrying a radio. He didn't say a word, plugged the radio into a wall socket. She didn't know what to think, “Your drink is on the counter.” “Going to drink it soon as I finish with you.” “What do you mean?” “You don't think I took out that double indemnity policy for your benefit, do you?” Joe turned the radio on and threw it into the bath water. It buzzed, and Marie vibrated like an electric sander. Once she stopped shaking, and her head slid under water, Joe stepped out and went to the table, picked up his whiskey and downed it in one gulp as he always did. He was counting the insurance money when he died. The end   For more stories, poems, & other stuff. http://joedibuduo.com/ http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=joe+DiBuduo PLEASE SUBSCRIBE FOR$1. A MONTH TO ENABLE ME TO CONTINUE WRITING A STORY A DAY. IF I CONTINUE FOR A YEAR, I WILL WRITE 365 STORIES. You'll receive them all for $1. A month.