The Felix The Cat clock on the wall informed me it was the witching hour. The knife in her hand suggested it might be the last one I'd be celebrating. I'd had high hopes for the weekend. It was meant to save my stale cookie of a marriage from the hammer of twenty-five years of whatever the fuck the antonym of bliss was. And then shit went all Humpty Dumpty on my sorry ass.
My own true love whispered in my ear, "Time to die honey bunny."
I suddenly awoke in a cold sweat.
"Can't sleep baby?"
"I just had the worst nightmare."
"What was it?"
"You were wearing a clown mask and you had me tied to a chair."
"That just sounds like kinky sex."
"With a butcher knife?"
My wife caressed my face in an uncharacteristically tender manner.
"Just close your eyes and DIE, dear."
I looked at the butcher knife in my stomach. I thought it would hurt more. I would have screamed but I didn't really see the point.
I suddenly awoke in a cold sweat.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"I just had the most fucked up dream; ever!"
"What was it?"
"You were wearing a clown mask and you had me tied to a chair. Then you said, 'it just sounds like kinky sex,' but I said, 'with a butcher knife?' and then you acted nice for once but it was a ruse cause then you stabbed me for real."
"Gee, that does sound like a fucked up dream."
"Some second honeymoon, huh? Maybe we should just throw in the towel and call it quits, dumpling?"
"We should talk about it in the morning. Why don't you just close your eyes," she said caressing my face in an uncharacteristically loving way.
"Yeah. Maybe you're right."
"Sure I am. Just close your eyes and FUCKING DIE ALREADY!!!!!"
I looked down at my chest. The handle of the butcher knife was flush with my hairy gorilla chest. Blood was spurting all over the duvet. I remember thinking about how my mother gave my dog away when I was eight. She waited till I visited my Grandma for the weekend and when I came home; no dog. What a bitch. I remember she told me the dog was going to live on a big farm and be really happy. Too bad nobody had stabbed her.
I suddenly awoke soaked to the bone in the coldest of cold sweats. My wife was reading a magazine. She adjusted her reading glasses and said, "Trouble sleeping sweet potato?"
"Yeah, I just had the most fucked up nightmare."
"What was it?"
I sat up and cracked my neck.
"I gotta piss. I'll be right back," I said putting on my robe.
To avoid being a liar I visited the john to pay my water bill. Then I went out to the garage to get something. I came back to the bedroom.
My wife didn't look up from her magazine.
"So what were you saying?"
"Fool me once, shame on you," I said hoisting the ax over my head. "Fool me twice shame on me," I continued, letting it fall on her head with a satisfying thwack.
My wife had looked up in disbelief, her reading glasses magnifying her horror. After I was done doing my best impression of Paul Bunyan her newly liberated head continued to stare incredulously at me from the floor. Somehow her reading glasses had survived the beheading. I vaguely wondered if they had been manufactured in China.
I awoke in a cold sweat. My shitty husband said, "Can't sleep, baby-snakes?"
"I just had the most fucked up nightmare."
"What was it?" he asked absentmindedly, flipping the page of a Spenser novel.
Something told me it was going to be a long night...
Originally posted on r/nosleep under the pen name mypumassmellfunky.
