Until I Finally Let Death Do Us Part

“Hey honey, how’s it going.”

Adeline spoke kindly hoping to smooth over the rest of the conversation. Winston looked at his wife. His eyes gave her the sudden feeling of being drunk while doing a trapeze act. Awkward doesn’t quite cover it, she was in dire straits. Her life as she knew it was pending on how she handled the next few minutes. Winston felt the back of his head and found something foreign.

“Sweety, this isn’t my skull.”

“It’s most of your skull, I just patched it a bit. I had to, you sprung a bit of leak.”

“After you hit me with an iron skillet.”

“I feel just terrible about that really.”

“Yeah, you always do. Problem is, you keep doing it.”

“I know but I’m going to anger management classes.”

“Are you really or have you just been saying that you’re going to the classes?”

“I mean to, I really do. It’s just my work is so damn important.”

“Adeline, how many times has this happened?”

“Ten, not counting that close call two years ago.”

“So you’ve tried to kill me eleven times. Does this sound conductive to a healthy marriage?”

“I guess not.” Adeline pouted inappropriately.

Winston knew he was in trouble the moment he learned she was a necrobiologist. It’s a field that shelters more than a few psychopaths. When he learned that she was an experimental necrobiologist, he should have just called off the marriage. It was her eyes that stopped him, big round things that can stop a speeding semi. It was her eyes that were tempting Winston to forgive.

“Next on the agenda, whose skull is this?”

“Your’s now, used to be a soda can.”

Quietly, Winston toyed with the revolver under the pillow. It was bad enough when she salvaged parts from neighborhood pets. It was terrible when she did it with transients but something about the fact that she was now ready to use just plain old found objects made this feel like the precipice of darkness. He was breathing deeply, trying to create an unnatural calm. It would steady his aim.

“You know Winston, I remember our wedding vows.”

“That priest sure will.”

Winston may have been the only person since Josef Stalin to put forth a scenario where he would have to put down his wife and then write it into his vows. Adeline simply altered the final line: Until I finally let death do us part. The priest thought it was cute but he was naïve of the ways of mad science.

“Are we really at that point Winston?”

He thought for a second and then dropped the gun.

“No, we’re really not but I have to know, if you don’t want Italian what do you want?”

“Actually, Italian sounds good now.”

“You are so lucky I use expensive bullets.”

“Honey, I’m lucky just to have you.”

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