She waited for him to come home,
into the wee hours of the mourn,
dressed in her sexiest negligee,
her belly full of ulcerated sorrows,
lubricated to numbness with six shots of whiskey.
The pistol was loaded with three bullets,
one for his genitals, one for his cold heart,
and one for his lying mouth.
Just as soon as she heard the door lock turning,
she planned on slipping the gun
into the waistline of her panties.
Then as he came in from his latest romp,
in the sack with a lady she'd learned
far too much about in the last week,
she was going to seduce him briefly.
A half-hearted attempt at stirring,
his most likely, sated and flaccid flesh,
leading him to believe she was going to give him
some oral lessons that he so enjoyed,
and then blow him away as he closed his eyes
and slipped into the moment.
Sadly he slipped quietly in the back door,
which he had left unlocked,
as she was dozing round about three A.M.
and when he saw the scenario laid out before him,
he strangled her with his necktie,
and slipped away into the silence of night.
But he never realized that
she'd hidden a video camera,
to record her final act with him,
and that there was one more bullet,
tucked securely in her bodice.
He was caught a week later,
in a cheap motel room with his new love,
thanks to her electronic suicide note,
that he failed to discover until it was too late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis
Silver trophy winner
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