'Til Death Do Us Part

A woman crashed her own funeral...

            I arrive at the cemetery with a smile on my face. They’re all gathered around the casket, crying and praying. My husband is in the front of it all, wiping away his fake tears with a handkerchief. My aunt goes over to him and pats his shoulder, which he starts to shake on purpose to trick her into thinking his tears are real. I get out of my car and close the door quietly, so as not to disturb the funeral. As I stand, I smooth down my black dress and check my hair and makeup. You must be presentable; this day is all about you.

            I make my way to the gravel path, walking slowly. He leans over the closed casket and kisses it. He lays down flowers. Roses. The b*****d knows I’m allergic to them. Must he mock me even after I am dead? Or perhaps he’s trying to make sure I am dead. Gone. Once and for all. Boy, is he in for a surprise?

            “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think you all might be a little confused.”

            They all turn and their eyes widen. My husband drops to his knees and shrieks. He picks himself up off the ground and runs over to me, hugging me. I reach behind my back and grab the knife on the back of my belt. I feel a warm liquid flow through my fingers.

"Next time, make your goons take a picture. It lasts longer."

"B***h," he gasps as he falls to the ground.