Post by Mercy for All on Jul 4, 2020 20:44:28 GMT
It had been a rough year for Marge. Eighty years old, most of them happy, but the last three...well, they were hell. First, Walter, her high school sweetheart who married her when they were both 19, passed after a long battle with cancer. Her son went through a messy divorce. Now, the COVID crisis. She was stuck at home, the fridge was getting emptier, the air conditioning was on the fritz, and the walls were closing in.
Marge was so miserable, she decided enough was enough. She would end it all. She pulled her husband's .45 out of night table drawer from where it hadn't moved for over 12 years. No ammunition. What about hanging? She tried, but couldn't make the knot work. Finally, in a pique of desperation she decided to leave nothing to chance and stab herself in the heart. She went to the kitchen and pulled the largest knife out of the butcher's block. But where was her heart? She only had the vaguest idea.
She pressed the power button on the dusty computer in the corner and waited the four minutes for it to whirr to life, the fan blowing a cloud of smoke out the back. Well, it was fortunate that Walter had never canceled the internet (and her son had told her not to do that after dad died..."because it's so useful"--well, she was using it now). Marge pulled the internet instructions out of the drawer under the keyboard and tapped the correct sequence of keys to get to "the Google." Where was her heart? Under her left breast. That was all she needed to know.
It was half an hour later that an ambulance screamed into her driveway, having been summoned by the neighbours who heard her cries of pain, and Marge was submitted to the local hospital with a devastating stab wound to her left knee.
Marge was so miserable, she decided enough was enough. She would end it all. She pulled her husband's .45 out of night table drawer from where it hadn't moved for over 12 years. No ammunition. What about hanging? She tried, but couldn't make the knot work. Finally, in a pique of desperation she decided to leave nothing to chance and stab herself in the heart. She went to the kitchen and pulled the largest knife out of the butcher's block. But where was her heart? She only had the vaguest idea.
She pressed the power button on the dusty computer in the corner and waited the four minutes for it to whirr to life, the fan blowing a cloud of smoke out the back. Well, it was fortunate that Walter had never canceled the internet (and her son had told her not to do that after dad died..."because it's so useful"--well, she was using it now). Marge pulled the internet instructions out of the drawer under the keyboard and tapped the correct sequence of keys to get to "the Google." Where was her heart? Under her left breast. That was all she needed to know.
It was half an hour later that an ambulance screamed into her driveway, having been summoned by the neighbours who heard her cries of pain, and Marge was submitted to the local hospital with a devastating stab wound to her left knee.
I saw that one coming when it was still above her waistline. 
