sick bastard

On Thursdays, when Matthew’s wife was working late at the hospital, he never missed “snuggling” in bed with their 5-year-old daughter.

And Sundays he never missed 10 o’clock mass.

Matthew prided himself a devoted man, singing his praises and thanks to Him.

 

 

 

i admit to not really comprehending how i came to this piece from the Can I eat this? prompt. i admit to being a bit disturbed by the piece. that’s flash fiction for you.

No more sleep for me

Soundly I slept till the door flew open, his hand slamming against the light switch, engulfing the room in brightness.

“I found a fuckin’ bed bug on her bed. Gotta call pest control tomorrow. This is gonna be so much fuckin’ work.”

 

 

So late to this for reasons I wish not to discuss other than to answer the Gargleblaster’s question, IS SOMETHING CRAWLING ON ME?