She killed him. She had no choice. She smashed his head against the television. He now lay lifeless in their living room. She had to dispose of his body. But she needed help. She decided to wait for her husband. He would have ideas. He watched a lot of crime drama series.
The doorbell rang at 6:15pm. She was nervous. The house was beginning to smell. She hadn’t thought about her husbands reaction. Would he get angry? She knew he had a lot to worry about at work. He didn’t want more on his plate.
She opened the door and gave him a weak smile. He didn’t return the smile; he was preoccupied. With work, she guessed. He walked in, untied his shoes, stepped over the corpse and went to his bedroom to freshen up. She waited breathless. She knew he would scream any minute now.
Ten minutes later, he walked into the living room, stepped over the corpse and sat on the couch. His usual seat was on the left side, directly in front of the television. Then she heard it. He screamed and cried aloud,
“Why is my TV broken?”