I think I\u2019m going to get away with killing my bitch wife. I\u2019ve got the same plan as always, same as with the whores under the shed. Thank god for my helper who always gets me out of these jams, a man who I never in a kajillion years would have guessed: Jeff Bezos. Yeah, big billionaire with better things to do. But Jeff gets it. Whatever I need? He\u2019s there. Cement? Shovel? Flesh-eating acid? He delivers it right to my door. Because this isn\u2019t my first rodeo, and Jeff has already supplied all my tools, I probably don\u2019t even need his help for this one.<\/p>\n
At dinner, Linda pissed me off. Meaning, this isn\u2019t my fault. She made me do it. So she\u2019s going on and on, bitching about her feelings again, probably PMSing. Being a real cunt, worse than usual. Slapping her never could shut her up for long\u2014there\u2019s no mute button in the world powerful enough\u2014it\u2019s like she couldn\u2019t stay the fuck silent if her life depended on it. Well, she proved that tonight.<\/p>\n
I like my women with bite, but that snarl is only fun for a little while, maybe the first few fucks. Soon, it fades. Then you can\u2019t get a muzzle on these bitches fast enough and let me tell you, it\u2019s not even worth the bed pleasures. I can pay a hooker to say what I want, but I expect a wife I won\u2019t have to kill in a sudden rage because that mouth I love on her turns into her fatal flaw.<\/p>\n
So I kill the stupid bitch and dig her a nice backyard bed, and now here she lies, dead as disco. My heart starts buzzing. It might be from digging though, because I\u2019m exhausted. I trudge inside and crack open a cold one after all my hard work. Tilting the whole thing back in one glug, I slump into my chair to take a nap.<\/p>\n
Dawn arrives, and I sleep far too long. I jump up in a panic and scramble out the back door. Thankfully, she\u2019s undisturbed, still waiting for me.<\/p>\n
My heart\u2019s buzzing again. It feels wrong leaving her corpse to rest in a shallow grave in our backyard. I still haven\u2019t mixed the bags of cement. There\u2019s time to adjust the plan. I drag her fly-covered, filthy body back up from its final resting place, and she\u2019s already reeking something foul, a stench wafting out of her slack-jawed gaping mouth. She\u2019s looking so sweet, I\u2019m tempted to kiss that nasty scowl, love her one last time. How long has it been since she even let me near that old bat cave? Oh well. Too late now. I\u2019ll just have myself a whore when this is over. To celebrate. There\u2019s plenty more room out here to bury another one.<\/p>\n
But I\u2019m still feeling sentimental and want to get this over with to start my new life. Might as well lean on Jeff again. I go on Amazon to find her a casket. Can\u2019t just bury her raw out here like the prostitutes. After all, she\u2019s my wife. I choose one that\u2019s red, like a rose. She was always yammering on about wanting roses, and I sure as hell ain\u2019t getting her roses now, so this will have to do. I add it to the cart, pick same day delivery.<\/p>\n
A little tear forms in my eye. I wipe it away. I loved Linda. I mean, I still do. If anyone knows what true love is, it\u2019s me. She just never wanted to see it. Thought she could threaten to leave? Well if I can\u2019t have her, no one can. Now she\u2019ll always be with me here at the house, dreaming from her homeland of hellfire about all the ways she never appreciated our love.<\/p>\n
This casket costs me a cool $1300, way more than I\u2019ve ever spent on her for anything, even her wedding ring. And she always said I was cheap. See, Linda? If you would have just opened your eyes and shut your mouth\u2014you\u2019d see all I do for you. Eerily, her eyes are open now, but so is her mouth, and I can tell she still doesn\u2019t see it. I spit on her and pour a shovel full of sand on her face, just in case. So I\u2019m not tempted to touch her.<\/p>\n
Then it\u2019s like a blink of time, sun\u2019s high in the sky, the death case hasn\u2019t arrived yet, so I still can\u2019t bury her. Finally, the doorbell rings, but it ain\u2019t the delivery.<\/p>\n
I open it. Turns out, these pigs have come knocking at my door, saying some shit about my missing wife. I don\u2019t know exactly what cause I\u2019m not listening\u2014something about I\u2019m a suspect, asking me what I was doing buying a casket on amazon.com. I ask them what the hell they were doing going through my private purchases.<\/p>\n
\u201cSir, Mr. Johnson,\u201d cop says. \u201cYour wife is missing. Your cooperation in the investigation can help lead to her whereabouts. Time is very important right now,\u201d then I completely blank her out, this lady cop flapping her lips, and I look instead at her badge shining over her left tit, and notice how fat her ass looks in that uniform. Maybe I\u2019ll pistol fuck her with that Glock on her belt. Unloaded? No, loaded. She\u2019d like that. I can tell.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d be sweet on her if I didn\u2019t know better. But I know that look in her eye, same bitch look Linda loved to get.<\/p>\n
This cop is either on the rag or she\u2019s on to me. They say women have this intuition, like their brains have psychic powers. Well, Linda\u2019s is fucked now because I smashed a hammer into the back of her skull.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, in these cases, it\u2019s the husband usually, and they go and do something stupid. Get themselves caught. Almost like they feel too guilty, just want the weight of what they\u2019ve done to end,\u201d other cop says to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook, I ain\u2019t stupid, and I ain\u2019t the one who killed my wife,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cKilled?\u201d Cops look at each other. \u201cWho said she was dead?\u201d<\/p>\n
And now I\u2019ve really stuck my foot up my ass.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what I mean,\u201d I say. \u201cYou\u2019re the one saying it\u2019s the husband. I\u2019m saying I ain\u2019t nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looks at me with the bitch eyes again, same way all of these cunts look at you when they think they\u2019re better than you. This makes me want to rip that scowl off and slice her ear to ear, put a pretty smile on that face, then slice her probably fake titties off and keep them in a shoebox under my bed. Maybe I can turn her face into a lampshade. Maybe she\u2019ll be my next fun night. Hell, next couple nights. Yes, she deserves it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like you to recount your whereabouts between the hours of eight p.m. to this morning at eight,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cSitting on my ass in my recliner. Drinking a beer,\u201d I say, proud that this isn\u2019t even a lie. I gesture to the years-deep ass indent sunken into my chair for proof, Bud Light cans smattered all over the floor. I embellish and add, \u201cWatching ESPN. Eating boxes of mac and cheese because Linda didn\u2019t come home to cook nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t bother to call and check on her? Had to wait until her employer reported her missing?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shrug.<\/p>\n
Cop says nothing and writes something down. The other cop tries to get all bro with me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey man,\u201d he says. \u201cI get it. Women act up. We have to put them in line sometimes. Things get out of hand, and before you know it\u2026\u201d he tilts his head a little and raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to fill in the blank of what happens after before you know it.<\/p>\n
The cunt cop gets tired of waiting and goes back to grilling my ass. \u201cWe\u2019re going to have to take you down to the station, you need to answer a few more questions.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe fuck I will,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you don\u2019t come willingly, we\u2019ll book you for drunk and disorderly.\u201d She snatches the Natty Light from my hands and throws it at her feet.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know what type of law-abiding citizens you usually harass, but I can handle my booze,\u201d I say, offended. \u201cDisorderly? I\u2019m calm. And you\u2019re on my land,\u201d I point down to the crest of the doorway where another empty beer can threatens to spill out from inside.<\/p>\n
This cunt is not listening. She\u2019s pissed and cuffs me with the force I want to use on her, that I\u2019m definitely going to remember to return when I get out of these and find her home address. Right as she\u2019s dragging me out to their patrol vehicle, the Amazon delivery guy shows up. He throws the package on the porch without even vaguely looking in our direction, like it\u2019s a prom night dumpster baby or something diseased.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s just the manufacturer box, casket picture plastered on the outside and everything, with a postage label slapped on. Turns out, I\u2019m a genius idiot. I bought a two-footer. For a kid. That was the kiddy price? Damn, Bezos, no wonder you\u2019re rich. So I start wheezing a laugh, jutting my chin out to point at it since my hands are behind my back, and say, \u201cLook! It\u2019s too small. I\u2019m an innocent man.\u201d<\/p>\n
The pigs are frozen for a second as this wave of confusion curveballs over their faces, and I\u2019m shouting, \u201cIf the casket don\u2019t fit, acquit!\u201d<\/p>\n
Then the bitch cop is telling me to shut up, and the bro cop starts to mirandize me, and right as I say LAWYER LAWYER LAWYER, my backyard gate swings open in some haunted act of God, and there\u2019s Linda\u2019s corpse right beside the piles of dirt and the rushed midnight grave I\u2019d started digging. They both gape at it and the slut cop starts blabbering into her radio.<\/p>\n
As they slam me into the car, I know there will be no coming back. So I don\u2019t say another word, not a peep. I take a long look at what has been my home for twenty years, my necrotic wife in the distance for nearly half the time. In my silence, I think about what Jeff B might be doing, how many dead broads he\u2019s probably laid to rest in his backyard or punted off his yacht somewhere in the middle of the Pacific. None of this is my fault, I realize. It\u2019s Jeff\u2019s. There once was a time I idolized him, imagining myself as his fellow man, bootstrapping my way to success any day now. But Jeff doesn\u2019t have a clue what it\u2019s like for us on planet ordinary folk\u2014selling his cardboard baby caskets, preaching his fast shipping. Meanwhile, he\u2019s shitting on his gold toilet, making his employees piss themselves on the clock, not caring at all how he ruined my perfect crime.<\/p>\n
I used to cringe at all those weirdos\u2019 threats of strapping him into a guillotine, knowing some freaks out there are just sick, irredeemable. Now I get it. Because I was almost free\u2014no Linda, no more bitching in my ear, no more nagging. Then it all got ripped away. My dreams of living the rest of my days in peace, dreams that Bezos has taken from me. Same way he stole them from everyone else. And out of all the sinners out there, from serial killers to baby killers, to pigs on the rag, to whores like my wife, to lovesick Joe Blows like me, to even those liberals trying to decapitate him in the street, I think he\u2019s the worst of us all. Because of him, I can\u2019t even bury my Linda. And I can never forgive him for that, never.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Whatever I need? Jeff Bezos is there. Cement? Shovel? Flesh-eating acid? He delivers it right to my door. Because this isn\u2019t my first rodeo, and Jeff has already supplied all my tools, I probably don\u2019t even need his help for this one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":22259,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21649","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-belicia-rhea"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21649","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21649"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21649\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22260,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21649\/revisions\/22260"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/22259"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21649"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21649"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21649"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}