Domestic Violence

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Stephanie swung blunt, the face of the frying pan connecting with the back of Marvin’s skull. She heard something in his head crack and thought to herself, ‘You can’t make an omelet...’

Marvin spun, full circle- one hundred & eighty degrees- and blinked twice: “Honey, I really think we should talk about this.”

Stephanie, at the sink, spray arm in hand and hose extended, dousing Marvin in icy morning water, his Columbia blue necktie going Navy.

“Is this about that thing I did? Or that other thing I did?” He spat tap water.

Stephanie grabbed the iron off the board, yanking the plug out the wall, tossing it at Marvin who had never learned to duck. It smashed his face- permanent press- leaving a burn mark up his cheek and jaw.

“I can explain most likely!”

Steph threw the can of bread crumbs at her husband, which exploded on impact, breading him delicious.

“I think we need to see a marriage counselor.”

That's when she dumped the hot pot of decaf over his head, scalding him with the rich taste of Brim.

Marvin, at a loss for words: “Owwwww!!”

Stephanie took this moment to take out his kneecap with her heel, Marvin buckling and collapsing to the floor. Stephanie sat on his chest, ripping his hair out with her teeth and thumping his groin with a meat hammer.

At the kitchen table Marvin Jr. looked over at his sister Elizabeth.

“We should probably make our own lunches.”