Marjorie stormed angrily back into the house, slamming the door to the garage. Upon arriving at the couch where Brent was laying down very casually and not in a forced, fake kind of way, she wasted no time.
"Brent, I have something to ask you," Marjorie said plainly.
Brent squirmed slightly. "Yes?"
"Are you trying to kill me again?"
"How would you know- I mean why would you think that, Marj?"
"Well, I was out in the garage, and I couldn't help but notice one of the wheels had been removed from my car."
"Oooooh myyyy gooood," Brent cried, dragging each word kicking and screaming from his throat, eyes as wide as they could go. "Are you okaaay? You could have been hurt!"
"No, Brent, I couldn't have been hurt because there's no way in hell I wouldn't have noticed a wheel missing from my car. Look, subtlety has never been your strong point, I know, nor planning, but you'll have to put in a little more effort than that. I'm sure they have videos for cutting the brake lines on YouTube or something."
Brent crossed his arms and huffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Brent, I told you I'd give you a divorce."
"I don't WANT a divorce, Marj, I want you to stop BREATHING."
"I know, Brent. Keep rubbing those two brain cells together. I'm sure you'll spark a decent idea eventually. In the mean time, I'm taking your car." Marj walked out without another word.
Foiled again, thought Brent. Time for plan R.