TILL DEATH DO US PART

I opened the door and got a 1-centimeter thick and 4-centimeter long bullet right into my head. It’s not important who pulled the trigger. The fact is that the bullet opened a big hole on my forehead spilling my brains out. My last words were ‘Fuck!’ and then I turned into thin air.

No actually that’s wrong.

I opened the door and saw a hairy guy fucking my wife on the sofa. I turned into an invisible man. I locked myself back in the car. I had a fine car. A BMW with leather seats and Kleenex at the back, a CD player and a navigator. I shut the windows and turned the radio really loud so that I wouldn’t hear my screams and my swearing. My Rolex stopped. I punched it on the glass and it broke like cheap wine glass. I went back into the house and saw them trying to find their clothes and underwear somewhere between my chair and the boy’s lego. They stood like mutes in a carnival parade, melting. I smelled their bodies in the air and just wanted to throw up. I wanted to tell her that she was a bitch and that he was a bastard and a cunt but they melted on the floor so badly, I couldn’t see their bodies or faces any longer. I didn’t want to say anything to a mass of flesh scattered on superb quality tiles. I blinked exactly two times. There they were, looking at me like cows:

I..we..e…mm…you…sor…pl…don’t…it’s…what…but…I…we…sor…pl…don’t…it’s…eee…no…pl…emm…ooo…aaa….emm…no…please…sorry…we…you…you…you…you…I..we..e…mm…you…sor…pl…don’t…it’s…what…but…I…we…sor…pl…don’t…it’s…eee…no…pl…emm…ooo…aaa….emm…no…please…sorry…we…you…you…you…you…you…you…you…I…we…the…the…we…we…I…you…

Each incomplete syllable stabbed bones and muscles but I felt nothing. I was still invisible. I passed through the kitchen door and right where the drawers were. I opened the first one. I closed it. I opened the other one. I got the two big knives and stabbed them twice at the front and twice at the back. I saw their desperate faces losing consciousness like one would kill a dog in the street at midnight and feel absolutely null. Then I chopped them like meat and put them into big plastic bags with perfumed toilet tablets in their mouths to block the bad smell. I dragged them to my freshly washed BMW and tossed them in the trunk like lamp chops.

No actually that’s wrong. And this is not a Hollywood movie.

I stayed in the BMW.

I never got back in.

I never got those two knives.

I cried like a baby, right in front of my high-tech navigator.

The Kleenex box was empty.

I had to wipe everything off with my silk Armani shirt.

MI