Bob drove the lengthy knife in and screamed like a wild animal while the moon lit the orchestrated event as had been pre-planned and pre-paid-for three months ago when the idea first struck him like a crazy thought better buried beneath all other crazy thoughts.
You see, she had treated him badly for a long time and this just spurred him forward, leading him to the inevitable, this event that would lead to a lifetime of incarceration, of being told what to do and when, of being watched at all hours and expected to declare all your movements… “going to the bathroom”… “getting a drink of water” …“going to lie down for a minute”… a life without freedom, where death would be welcomed as a saving grace, and Bob had signed on, had paid for it all with a credit card, and the knife sliced in like this was German-Chocolate cake.
“Aurrghh!” Bob yelled as he faced the moon in the sky.
A crowd amassed around him.
He didn’t see her as a victim. No. She was at fault for all of his decisions that led to this moment-- that Sunday when she refused to let him have another beer… that Monday night when she turned off the TV while the Broncos came back and defeated the Bears…
…that damn diet she put him on.
Such were the moments that had confused him, see-sawing resentment for appeasing compliance.. taking it on the chin when he wanted to be taking it outside… confusing her nagging nature for love and a desire to right what he felt she thought must be deeply wrong with him.
There was that episode with her mom that had seared its brand into his mind where it would stay forever-- “Light Days, Happy Shields, extra large”.
“Aurrghh!” he screamed again.
There were now hordes surrounding him, clapping.
Bob had gotten married.
--Scott from Oregon