The Murder of : 2

I killed my husband, once or twice, many times over. Could that be possible? Was that a dream? Usually, I aim at truth.

“Could you tell me what he said to you? A lie, again, wasn’t it?”

“As a matter of fact…”

“In fact, it was a lie, wasn’t it? I hate liars the most. May those lies of them strangle them right away.  That should be fun to see. That certainly should.”

I must be the culprit, I was the only one who held a grudge against him. This will be my rejoinder: “My motto is ‘the truth, only the truth’. You might have heard that somewhere, that kind of things happens sometimes.”

“Have you already seen his pet? A mongoose! That is the uglier animal I have never seen in my whole life. Tiny eyes that follow your every movement, tiny ears, tiny legs… Everything is tiny. They are like father and son: alike.”

We were so unlike. I can’t even remember why we married each other. A spur-of-the-moment? Therefore now, I can only blame myself.

“And, it has got those tiny teeth too! Pointy tiny teeth, sharper than a knife-edge knife. Look! Just like that! Pointy tiny teeth that squeal ‘I am armed to the teeth’, more or less. On that account, I didn’t even dare to look at it in those tiny evil eyes of it.”

They asked me a lot of questions. How can I explain what occurred? I withheld all that could accuse me, all the same they didn’t believe me.

“Such a hideous creature! In the teeth of that, how can he like that mongoose?”

How can that be possible? A rampant suspicion. I asserted that I couldn’t do that to him. « Why not? » They requested. I am not sure. But I am sure they didn’t like me. Some kind of prejudice.

“As I avoided him, he dared to placidly look at… look at… I don’t remember what it was, but it certainly was not me. Can you believe that? The humiliation panged at that time.”

They hated my self-confidence, they hated it so much. They scorned all my precious cast-iron fake alibis. Therefore, they had nothing but scorn for me.

“I whish he could die very slowly of acute gastritis, a very malignant one, you know. Thanks to that I could leisurely look at him in constant pain. That should be fun to see. It certainly should.”

They urged me to commit suicide. “Over my dead body!” I yelled at them. They smirked at me. My demise, they were dying to gaze at my poor lonely lovely dead body.

“I don’t agree with your assertion that he is only a human being: he is definitely the worst! His crest should be a human upside down, as they did in Satanism with the Christian cross. The Antichrist, the Satanists, those things. Have you ever heard about them? You certainly have. He obviously hasn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so stupid. I am sure he has never opened a book. For Christ sake! Can you believe that?”

“May you go to meet your maker thanks to an over-indulgence in self-confidence,” they claimed. How could the Lord have even heard them out? What a shameless prayer! How crappy! What the hell were they asking to God? Sweet Jesus! How could I have possibly died from that?

[The Murder of : 1]

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