I sat there, watching her every move. Watching the way she talked and cringing every time she smiled or laughed with him. I watched through the small, dusty window how she put her hand over his and gave him that sweet smile of hers. She sat underneath the dim restaurant light with him, flirting and laughing as if I was out of the picture. He leans over and whispers into her ear; she giggles and they start to get up to leave. I watch as they walk out the restaurant hand in hand. They start heading down the street and I follow. As they near the misteress’ car, that is when I choose to approach.
“Why hello! I hope I’m not interrupting your lovely evening, but-“
Before I could finish the male cut me off and said, “Sorry, but we are kind of in a hurry.”
I just smile, feeling the paint on my face crinkle and sweat building up in my enormous shoes.
“Well then let me just make you a balloon animal, yeah? I’m sure the misses would love to have one to hang up in her room to remember this night! It’ll only take second. They say I’m the best.”
I try to persuade them to stay just a little longer and even throw in a wink at my soon to be dead wife. She smiles and puts her hand on the pompous specimen and whispers in his ear seductively. His cheeks turn a bright shade of pink and he just says to me,” Okay, just make it quick please.”
I set down my suitcase full of my marvelous toys. As I am searching through my suitcase thinking of what toy I would be using tonight I hear the philanderer whisper to my deceitful wife, This clown needs to hurry up, he’s giving me the creeps.”
She just laughs and whispers back, “I thought nothing scared you, thought you were all macho.”
After digging through my suitcase, I find what toy I will be using. I look up to the disgusting sight of the couple and smile big.
“You wanna know something?” I laugh and tell them, ”It seems as if I left all my balloons at my house. I guess I’ll catch you another day”
I shrug my shoulders at them and as they go to enter the car I take my choice of toy, a sledge hammer, and bash the Casanova’s head first and listen as he groans in agony. My wife just screams and yells, ”What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Help, please someone help!”
I shut her up by bashing her head with the sledge hammer as well. I grin. I look down at her as she lays on the ground, getting herself dirty, which I’m sure she is used to.
“If you’re going to cheat on me, at least make sure I don’t find out about it, or better yet make sure the fella is better looking than me.”
I stand there, watching both of them cry out for help. I watch as the man stands up and tries to fight back, but his kind of fighting is stumbling towards me and acting as if he is about to pummel me. The misses sure picked a smart one to cheat on me with.
I take my sledge hammer and swung it like a bat until it connects with his face. Standing over him I swing the sledge hammer over and over until I can feel my face paint and his blood dripping off of my chin. I take a look over at my wife and see how petrified she looks. I kneel down to her eye level and whisper, “I trusted you, my mistake. Now, you face the consequences. I’ll see you in hell, love.”
She screams, knowing that her life is about to end, but I stop myself from killing her. I realize that I still have my face painted and that she does not know who I am. I stand up and take a step back into the street light so she will get a good look at me. Taking my wig off and wiping off the paint on my face as best as I could, I take a look at her and say,” Remember me? Your husband? Such a shame you chose a piece of scum over me, hun. I really thought what we had was real. But till death do us part right?
All the rage inside of me was put into killing her, making her pay for the pain she has caused me. My work is finished and I head home. Standing in the shower I think about their facial expressions and how they both screamed in agony until their breathing slowed. I watch as all the paint and the blood wash off of me and into the shower drain, making it seem as if I were showering in blood. Technically, I was.
After the killing of my wife and her mistress, I should’ve felt a weight lifted from my shoulders, I should’ve felt relieved and happy, but instead I felt nothing. The only emotions I felt were anger and resentment. Walking to the coffee shop across the street I see couples all over, women giving their lovers affectionate looks, but little does that poor man know how she is banging her boss. As I walk into the coffee shop I see what looks like my last wife, a redhead with happiness surrounding her. I sit down close to her table and watch. I watch as she brings her cup up to her lips and takes a sip. I watch as she licks her finger and turns a page in her book. She gets up, so do I. Following her outside, she heads for an alley to which I assume she is parked. Peering over the side of the alley she enters a doorway of a small condo. Staying for a few extra minutes watching her door I leave, but knowing I would be back for her.
Few years have passed since my third killing. I sit in my cell, replaying those images over and over. The images of my wife’s face as I kill her, and the image of the red headed woman who looked exactly like my wife. The fear on their faces, the agony in their voices. I did not get far after killing that red head, who I now know as Carlee Holmes. I was having a nice breakfast when the police came busting down my door and threw me on the floor. I smiled as my face was smashed against the floor and as they cuffed me.
“If I would’ve known I was going to have company, I would have made more pancakes.”
The cop cuffing me shoved my head down and said,” Burn in hell.”