1052. Tears from onions
© Bruce Goodman 3 June 2017
Quite frankly, Marjory was sick of her husband. They’d been married for three years, both for the third time. Things hadn’t worked out as happily as intended for Marjory. She had presumed on their wedding day that this was going to be it, but he quickly became boring. Personality-less. Spineless. He liked to cook. He was hopeless at it.
Marjory devised a plan. She mixed poisonous tulip bulbs up with the onions. They didn’t look too dissimilar. And of course, her boring husband wore big powerful spectacles because he was half blind – or so he reckoned.
There he was (Marjory watched him) chopping up the tulip bulbs and tossing them raw into a salad. She must remember not to eat any! Hopefully, because he stuffed his food in like there was no tomorrow, he would have stuffed a considerable amount of poison into his system before he realized they tasted horrible.
And he did! The funeral was last Thursday. His two former wives came to the funeral. Marjory’s two former husbands didn’t attend. They had both died, each time leaving Marjory a grieving widow.