People's Exhibit A
8-16-01, 6:13 AM
I killed my wife this morning on my way to get a glass of water. It was really just an afterthought. The killing, that is. I really, really wanted that glass of water. I normally sleep late on Sundays, but I woke up parched around 5. I didn't fall right back to sleep, so I got up and went to the kitchen.
The light was on, which was strange, since Liz normally sleeps in on the weekends too. She was talking to some guy--he was sitting right there in the kitchen--about when they could see each other again. They both froze when I came in and filled a glass with tap water. "Jim, I can explain..." she began, but I waved her quiet as I downed the water. It felt good too. Have you ever been so thirsty that a good drink of water feels like your passage to eternal bliss after the end of the world? It was sort of like that.
"I'm going back to bed," I mumbled and did so, leaving the two of them in their stunned silence. It wasn't until I was settled comfortably under the covers that it hit me. "Shit," I groaned to myself. "They probably expect me to do something about that." Why is it always the wronged husband that's required to do something about his adulterous wife? It's just a big hassle if you ask me. But that's the way it is, so I shouldered my social responsibility and took action. I got my handgun out of the back of the sock drawer and shot them both in the face.
With that taken care of, I put the gun back and cuddled back up under the covers. Yeah, I know, these things normally end with the husband shooting himself, but why should I die? It's not like I did anything wrong. I tossed and turned for at least half an hour before I finally gave up trying to get to sleep, which bothered me to no end. I'm always so irritable when I don't get to sleep in on the weekends. Finally, I got out of bed and put a pot of coffee on to brew. Since I wasn't doing anything besides wait, I decided to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Liz sure seemed to have bled a lot, lots more than the guy, whoever he was. It took forever to get it all mopped up, since I only had a few sponges that we normally use to do the dishes. I had to keep stopping and rinsing the blood down the sink in the middle of the job. It left this nasty stain in the sink too, not to mention on the floor. I hope I'll be able to get them out.
By the time I had rinsed out the sponges and laid the bodies neatly side-by-side against the back wall, the coffee was ready, so I poured myself a cup. So now I'm drinking my coffee--pretty good coffee if I do say so myself--and writing this down. Liz would be proud. She's been trying to get me to start a diary for years. I figure this is one of those "important life events" that you want to put in writing so you can remember it later.
Someone's at the door. Probably the police. Took them long enough to get here.