Originally published November 14, 2007
She was careful not to make any noise as she entered the room. Sure enough, there he was, asleep. She slowly crept over to the bed and stared at him, part of her hoping that he would wake up right at that second and grab her arm, make her stay. But that wasn't to be, not with all of the sleeping pills she had put into his meatloaf earlier in the evening. Remembering that, she knew that it didn't matter how much noise she made. So, with a sigh, she walked over the dresser and flipped on the stereo. "One more time, for old time's sake," she said to her dying husband on the bed. And for one last time she danced the dance they danced on their wedding day, wondering a little how many times one could use the word dance in a sentence, but strugging it off. For she was dancing, for her freedom, for their memories and most of all, for all the lives she was saving. When she was finished, she walked over to his dresser and slid open the third drawer. There it was, her prize for a job well done.
Four minutes and 37 seconds later, she left the house, locked the door and slid into her car. "Hey... it's done," she said, gently shaking the man sleeping in the passenger sleep. He opened his eyes and smiled and she knew it was worth it, for this man truely was the love of her life. "I'm so proud of you," he said, looking down. "But, after all of this... after all of the lies, deaths, everything, there is something that just doesn't make any sense."
He turned and looked her right in the eyes and said, "Why in the world were you just doing 'The Bartman' in your bedroom?"
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