“You’re on fire!” she screamed, sitting up straight in the woven pool chair.
He glared at her with a chilling smile. “Oh course I am lovey.” His sarcasm grew. “You set me on fire with your kisses and affection.”
“No, really, your pants are on fire. Don’t you feel the heat?”
“Yes, I feel the heat of our libido,” he said dryly, looking at his pants. He reached down and swatted at the small flames. “How can I feel anything? You’ve killed every nerve in my body with your love.”
He stood over her, his fists clenching menacingly at his sides. He grew tired of her but he could not get rid of her; she just wouldn’t leave. Nothing would happen to her if he laid hands on her; he’d tried that several times. This was the worst kind of punishment that anyone could’ve come up with for him.
“You are quite entertaining today,” she laughed and slouched back into the chair. “Be a dear and get me some sunscreen. Unlike you, I will feel it if I catch on fire. “
Had he known what hell would be like for him, he would not have killed his lovely wife and himself accidently in the process, but stuck with the divorce. Now his punishment in the ever after is to be her servant. And the schtick, she doesn’t know that they are dead.
He returned a few minutes later with a hammer. She looked at him with a disapproving smile.
“I said sunscreen, you idiot…” the hammer interrupted her statement.
He knew that she would be back in a few minutes as though nothing happened; he just wanted some quiet. He pulled the sunscreen out of his pocket and dropped it next to the hammer on concrete. He walked around the pool to the garden whistling a happy tune.

Read all the entries at Wakefield Mahon’s place.

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