Brenda’s husband, Colm, detested tripe; whereas Brenda loved it. It was Brenda who did most of the cooking, which is why Colm was subjected to a meal of tripe at least once a month.
Brenda hadn’t moved an inch in the fourteen years they had been married. At first, love overruled any tripe-dislike on Colm’s part. He heartily consumed it. But such action grows thin and now it was a massive monthly chore and had been that way for a dozen or so years. Indeed the marriage had grown decidedly rocky.
Brenda had always worked the night shift at the factory, which meant she would prepare a meal before leaving for work. From Colm’s point of view this was a blessing as he didn’t have to pretend to enjoy eating the tripe. However, he was a waste-not-want-not sort of guy so even though he detested tripe he forced himself to eat it. It wasn’t going to kill him and it was only once every four weeks or so.
It was Colm’s detestation of tripe that prompted Brenda to use the dish when she decided to poison her husband. He so disliked the taste that he would gulp it down, poison and all, with a grimace. The stage was set. Brenda went off to work.
Fourteen years of disgusting tripe is enough. Colm took his dish of tripe outside and buried it in the garden. As Anita from up the road said to Colm in the motel that evening: “Thank goodness you’ve at last taken a stand against that conniving, tripe-cooking lowlife. When tomorrow we begin to setup shop together I shall cook you a mean jellied eel.”
The trouble using poisonous berries to kill your mother-in-law is that the mixture of poisonous berries tastes awful. You can add strawberries and raspberries and blue berries, but the few poisonous berries tossed into the mix render the concoction unpalatable.
I even tried a strong tasting ice cream to go with it, but without luck. I made a berry pie with the most delectable pastry. Still no luck.
In the end I took the more expensive road; I hired someone to shoot her. Now my wife wants a divorce for my part in getting her mother murdered.
The trouble using poisonous berries to kill your wife is that the mixture of poisonous berries tastes awful…
The alien craft had left to return to its own planet. The aliens had fallen in love with New York and ended up staying for a month. What a time they had! They were treated and feasted; they were toasted and entertained. It wasn’t meant to happen like that. The alien craft simply needed repairs – it was quite a simple repair but the part had to be manufactured. It was because of this that the aliens had to reveal their identity.
“We love New York!” declared the head alien before taking off. “We only wish New York was ours. We would fill it with ten million of our kinsfolk! Sadly it does not belong to us!”
“By way of thanks to New Yorkers for their extraordinary hospitality we are leaving behind a special gift. It is an exceptional vaccine that will cure all known illnesses. If you have chronic heart disease it will cure that. If you have arthritis it will cure that. If you get migraine headaches it will cure that. Gone are all allergies, every sniffle, every cough. Sadly we cannot leave enough for the entire world, even for all of America. There is enough only for New York. On a return visit we shall bring more.”
The Governor of New York expressed his thanks. The aliens departed. The Governor first gave it to his old mother and a couple of his sisters. They died. He then gave it to all the old people in the city. Old people were less likely to vote for a progressive Governor so it was sensible to use them as guinea pigs. Word got out that the vaccine killed. The Governor refused to give it to anyone else. By doing so he saved New York!
Blackberry pie was Patricia’s thing. It wasn’t really blackberry pie; it was more a custard pie with a handful of blackberries scattered on top. She had made it for years, and for every occasion. Only once, when fresh or frozen blackberries were not available, had she resorted to blueberries. It was not the same. She vowed to make blackberry pie or nothing.
Patricia’s husband Herb wasn’t overly fond of blackberry pie. He used to like it, especially in the first flushes of love, but now after quite a few years the novelty had worn thin and he craved variety. He would still eat a slice when the occasion called for it. And he knew how to pretend delight.
It was this attribute of Herb’s that Patricia was relying on. He was sure to devour with fake enthusiasm the slice she had poisoned.
My thanks to each and every one of you for coming to this group session. Now that we have finished our coffee and cookies, if you would like to take a seat and we shall discuss the causes of why you are here: what is the root cause of why each of you suffers from low self-esteem? I know the course is expensive but I believe it will be worth every penny.
When someone comes to see me for therapy, it is usually clear early on if they have poor self-esteem. It shows up in their language, in how they talk about themselves, and it shows up in their non-verbal communication such as their body language.
For people such as yourselves with low self-esteem, I make it a priority to find out how the outside world valued you when you were young, and how as adults you can now determine your own value.
This can be hard and take time to achieve, so I have saved you the trouble by poisoning your coffee and cookies and none of you will ever have to worry about low self-esteem again. You, to be quite honest, are the dregs of society, and I have arranged for a garbage truck to wait at the back door and you’ll be loaded into it – at this stage dead or alive – to be taken to the town dump.
All doors, except the back door, are locked. Have a nice day and thanks for your money.
Urs was a tyrannical husband. Alice had long felt trapped in the relationship. She knew she should untangle herself from such a situation but really she didn’t know how. Her only time of peace was after the evening meal when she would take her coffee (Urs was watching the evening news) and wander down to the back of the garden where Urs kept his racing pigeons.
Urs was besotted with his pigeons. Alice found their gentle cooing both soothing and consoling.
The racing pigeons were worth a pretty packet. He would enter racing competitions with them regularly. He cared for them more than he cared for his wife.
One of his more tyrannical aspects was that Alice should prepare only healthy food. He regarded vegetable greens as a must to every meal, especially peas. “Peas are riddled with nutrients,” he would say. “That’s why they are so green.”
Alice hated peas. Part of her post-dinner evening walk was to take the peas she had hidden in her napkin and give them to the pigeons.
One early morning, Urs went down to see his pigeons and they were all dead. A veterinarian post-mortem showed that they had eaten poisoned peas.
When Melba took evening classes in gardening it wasn’t exactly so she could learn how to pull out a weed. It was so she could devise a plan to rid herself of something noxious in her garden, namely her husband. He was more than annoying; he was a downright pest. Melba never got any rest from his bragging stupidity. For example, he couldn’t stop going on and on about the evening classes he was attending. That’s what had given Melba the idea to attend evening classes herself.
Specifically it was the section on organic weed killers that interested her. It would be a lot easier to construe death by organic weed killer as accidental. “Oh I had no idea, Officer, that that was poisonous. I thought it was an antioxidant.”
And indeed! Melba learned that a sturdy dose of toxicity would be enough to rid herself of her garden pest. Her course finished next Friday. She would perform the deadly deed on Saturday!
Her husband’s course finished on Thursday, just a day before hers, so he would be home and available for dosage. His favourite part of his evening classes on Rifle Shooting was “How not to miss your mark”.
Devin didn’t think much of Travis; in fact he hated him. Devin knew he had been the topic of a school board meeting, and Travis (who was the school principal) was the one who had brought the topic up: Devin was teaching stuff in science that Travis didn’t like. Devin’s classroom had to be purged of Devin.
It was near the end of the school year. It was decided that Devin’s contract would not be renewed. Travis would inform Devin after the end of year teachers’ “party”. But somehow Devin had found out in advance.
Devin got a syringe, filled a little bottle with poison, and creeping into Travis vegetable garden at night, managed to inject all the tomatoes with the concoction. Whipty-do! All that Devin need do now was to sit around and wait for Travis and his family to kick the bucket.
Nothing happened. No one died. No one even got sick. The end of year teachers’ party was held. Devin was informed by Travis that his services were no longer required in the next academic year. Devin wasn’t sure if his seething hatred was because of the dismissal or because of the ineffective poison. He was livid. Next time he wouldn’t get it wrong. Travis was a goner.
A day later, Devin got a gun. He loaded it. He got in his car and headed for Travis’ house. He drove fast. He drove impetuously. He drove dangerously. He had an accident and was killed.
The funeral, held in the school’s gymnasium, was huge. Travis spoke of the tragic loss to the school of a good and talented teacher of science; in fact, they were naming the new science block after him.
Barbara closed Rodrigo’s eyes. It was always a bit scary when someone died with their eyes wide open. One lid kept opening slightly. She had read where the imprints of Ancient Roman coins were found on mummified bodies, and so she got two twenty cent coins and placed one on each eyelid to keep them shut.
For two days Barbara had sat next to her dying husband’s bed. Her kindly neighbour, Lynn, helped quite often during that time to give Barbara little breaks. Lynn hoped that when the time came for her to care for her own husband, if such a need occurred, then she would be as caring and gently calm as Barbara. And now the wait was over. Rodrigo had died. Peacefully.
How the two day watch had brought back memories for Barbara. She had met Rodrigo at the beach. He was from Bolivia. It was love at first sight! He was so handsome! So kind! Such fun! They had got married in the blink of an eye. They honey-mooned on an island resort. He wasn’t overly rich, but life was comfortable and secure. So many, many memories of their ten year marriage.
Such happiness rarely lasts; at least not often. Rodrigo was the third husband Barbara had poisoned.