I’m so disappointed in my ability to embarrass my son. Just because he’s 18 does not mean I can’t still scare the living shit out of him around his friends. Or so I thought.
I was genuinely hungry after work yesterday so I decided to stop by his work and pick up a snack. Because I was in a silly mood, I decided to ham it up and play the doting mother. “Oh sweetie, are you getting enough to eat? Are they treating you well? Oh, you look so handsome in your uniform.”
The little shit played along.
He totally embraced the mommy’s boy routine and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. “Mom, I’m so glad you stopped by, I love seeing you.” He learned from the master of manipulation, and honestly I’m kind of proud. The best part: the young woman behind me ate it up. As soon as I stepped away, she began fawning over him like he was a puppy.
No shame. That is when I started laughing.
The little shit got me, and he got that girl’s number. I asked what happened to Sarah but apparently they’re “taking time apart”. Kids these days. Back in my day
Oh my god I can’t believe I just typed that phrase. I really am getting old. That phrase should never be uttered unironically. Promise me, dear readers.
On to happier topics. You’ve never known true joy until you’ve killed someone with a plunger. It makes this delightful popping noise and combined with screams of pain I was in stitches. I may have kept going after they died just to giggle. It’s a truly hilarious sound. That was my Saturday.
Sunday, I started with a new murder room: The Garage.
Like the kitchen, there are a lot of obvious weapons in there so the idea this week is to get creative.
But I’m definitely using a lawn mower tonight. I haven’t used it in years and it’s just so messy. Remember the wood chipper from a few years ago? It’s like that but more hands on. However, Monday was spent doing a little group project with my husband.
Some men bring flowers home for their wives, my husband brings victims. I think the most romantic thing a man can do is know his wife, not just buy generic gifts. It’s the little things that just say “I’m thinking of you, here’s something I know you’ll enjoy.”
So Monday evening was spent almost entirely in the garage with my husband and a random stranger he kidnapped on his way home. Blond male, early twenties, eager for work. Fish in a barrel. First we left him in the garage with the engine running for him to die of carbon monoxide poisoning. Then we cut up an old mattress and put him in. I’ve been nagging James to get rid of that thing for years and I wonder if he suggested stuffing the body in the mattress so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Either way, we stitched the mattress up with our victim inside then we drove out of the city to some abandoned field and lit the sucker on fire.
A word of advice if you’re going to light a mattress on fire: bring a lot of kindling. It doesn’t burn as easily as you’d think. The material doesn’t catch well so you need to get it really hot and really spread out in a short period of time or you’ll lose it. And then it just becomes work. When it stops being fun and only requires work, then I just might stop.
Don’t fret, dear readers, I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. This is still an enjoyable pastime for me and my husband. Murder really does bring us together.
That’s my other word of advice: Find something that you and your husband can do together – outside of the bedroom – some activity that you both really enjoy and can engage in. That may seem obvious but I’ve seen couples who get married because they love each other, not because they have anything in common and that makes no sense to me. That’s the groundbreaking notion I’ve learned after 8 years of marriage.
Have something in common with your husband.
As always, dear readers,