A Conversation With My Husband Before Bed About How I Would Hide His Body
Brian, you know what I was thinking?
No, Abbie, I don’t.
I don’t mind if you want to have sex with someone else as long as she also does stuff I don’t want to, like butt stuff or whatever. But if you ever leave me for good, I will kill you. I’m not bluffing.
How would you kill me without my help?
[I should mention here that my husband is known to help me out occasionally, but only in the sense that he handles all of the things required for me to exist.]
I could do it, Brian!
Okay, I am dying to know how you would go about it.
I would cut you down with a chainsaw.
We don’t own a chainsaw.
Okay fine. I would rent one.
From where? Where would you go to rent a chainsaw?
……Fine. I would slit your throat and then saw your head off with a kitchen knife. Then I would saw all your other limbs off with other kitchen knives and then scatter your pieces everywhere.
I’m not sure you could handle the load. Do you know how much my torso alone weighs?
Probably like 350 pounds because you’re so fat.
Well. I weigh 165 pounds total, so how much would my torso weigh?
Probably forty pounds.
Are you kidding me?
No, I swear to god I’m like a circus engineer at guessing weights of things.
What in the holy fuck is a circus engineer?
It’s a person who makes circuses work, and one of those people guesses weights. And your fat-ass torso is probably like 40 pounds.
(Brian checks his phone.) I’ll be damned. You’re right.
I fucking told you.
Okay, so you’re aware that you’re probably gonna have to dig at least six holes for my body parts?
Yeah, like some shallow graves, NBD. Like, I’m not trying to go overboard with the grave part. Just, like, bare minimum coverage. Like the Kendall and Kylie bathing suit of graves.
Do you know where we keep the shovel?
Yeah, but I don’t know how to open the shed to get it.
Well it probably doesn’t matter because we don’t have a shovel.
Oh. ….. Brian? Can you help me figure out how to hide a body?
Noooooo, I’m not gonna do that because you’re talking about my body.
Okay. I love you. But everyone else told me they don’t like you much.
Is that a fib?
Ugh. Whatever. I love you.
I love you, too.