This story was inspired by a joke my Grandad made when he and my Nana celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. My grandparents adored one another, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun with the characters they’ve inspired. I mean, they’re certainly not the first family members I’ve thrown into a horror story. After all, that’s what family’s for, right? Right…?
~ ~ ~
“Wow, 50 years of marriage,” said Bill, barely audible over the hum of partygoers. “Don’t know how you and Shirley managed it. Did you ever think of divorce, Jim?”
Jim smiled, letting his eyes wander around the room in search of his wife. There she was, gabbing away with Mary Jane. It was hard to miss that bad dye-job, those rolls beneath her dress. He could hear her cackling at some unfunny joke. It was like taking a cheese grater to his nerve endings.
In his minds eye, he walked away from Bill, setting his half-empty drink on the tray of a passing waiter. He grabbed a steak knife from one of the lavishly decorated tables, nodding to oblivious party guests.
Before Shirley had the chance to say anything to him – or to turn and look – he drove the steak knife into her side, twisting it back and forth to force it in further. She coughed up blood, spitting it all over Mary Jane and her tacky yellow dress. Shirley’s own white dress was now patchy with dark red.
“If I’d have done it back when I first thought about it, I’d be out of jail now,” Jim whispered to his wife.
She chuckled, spitting up more blood that dribbled down her chin.
“You and me both,” she said with a hint of admiration.
Jim blinked and brought his attention back to the present moment with Bill. Back to a reality where he had not stabbed his wife of 50 years in front of over 100 of their closest friends and family.
“Divorce?” he said with a chuckle. “No, Bill. Never divorce. But murder…”
Bill laughed loud and hard, spilling his drink. He patted his friend on the back, leading him towards the bar.
“Oh, Jim, you’re a riot.”
