“The cake is gone,” your husband says to you.
Your eyes glaze over and the upper right corner of your mouth begins to twitch. Your mind races with images of rough men in masks and striped shirts breaking into your house late at night to steal your delicious dessert, for you are willing to accept no other explanation. It is only you and your husband in this house, and you were perfectly clear when you said you were saving the last slice of your delicious German chocolate cake for later; he could not have eaten it, certainly not last night while you were asleep.
“I ate it last night, while you were asleep. I was really hungry,” he says. His head droops and his gaze falls to the floor.
How could he hurt you like this? You trusted him. You took his god damned stupid-ass last name. I mean, shit, how did a name like Buttman make it through Ellis Island unscathed anyway? Your last name is Buttman and you have no cake and your husband is the one responsible for all of it. He’s going to be sorry.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he coos.
You nod in silent agreement, but you are plotting. What could you take away from this man, this pretender who sits on a throne of lies and calls himself husband? What is precious to a man for whom nothing is sacred? How can you kill a man with no heart?
Your husband cocks his head to the left and raises his eyebrows. “Are you…okay?”
You return from your thoughts and smile slightly. “I’m fine, baby. We’re fine.” You make a short shopping list in your head: bone saw, tarp, lime, shovel? No, you already have a shovel.
“You sure?” your husband asks.
“Yes, we definitely already have a shovel.” Fuck.
“Huh? Oh. My head’s all fuzzy. I’m uh…I think, you know, woman problems.”
Your husband laughs because he is a cruel and empty shell of the man you once loved. “Well, I guess you really needed that chocolate, huh?” He pretends to punch you on the shoulder and walks out of the room without another word.
Your rage burns with the fury of a thousand Easy Bake Ovens. It will not be easy to kill him, but nothing worth doing ever is.