The Boss

Dusk setting in, the last shimmer of daylight glistening through Laura’s wine glass. Half full, she raises the glass to take another toast to her liquid savior. Many nights, the wine was her comfort after Tim’s berating temperament. Ever since she dented his beloved Mustang; falling into his slavery with ever demand, “These dishes are filthy! Wash them again”; “You overcooked the steak. Can’t you do anything right?”

Thanks to Laura, this time Tim bit off more than he could chew. Laura was never good at the Heimlich maneuver, or so she claimed. After watching him grab at his neck, his eyes bloodshot and bulging out of their sockets. She giggles in twisted bemusement at the memory and now…now she is free.

With a sigh of relief, she gulped down the last few drops, grinning as she left the empty glass on the countertop. “Meow!” Rocket! Her dead husband’s devious feline. “Might as well get rid of him too,” she concluded to herself.

Laura stormed into the garage, her sharp butcher’s knife in hand. “ Meow”, came from under Tim’s precious hunk of steel. Kneeling down beside the metallic midnight black Mustang, “Rocket, get out of there you stupid cat!” The yellow eyes staring at Laura as she started to reach for him. Suddenly, the engine began its thunderous roar. Startled, she quickly pulled herself out from under the back bumper…her last vision being the red brake lights, the license plate reading “The Boss,” now engraved into her skull.