Everybody Eats Marie
By Steven Michael Sarber
Debra walked through the living room, picking up toys as she went. God help her, this had been one hell of a day already. Raymond had schemed his way into another day of golf, and then she had found his stash of girlie magazines, buried beneath the “Sporting News” and “Sports Illustrated” next to his desk in the office. Jeez, Ray, you are getting lazy—not even really hiding stuff anymore. Not that she should care; whatever it took to keep his hands off her. After last month, when Frank and Marie walked right into their bedroom while she rode high atop him, she couldn’t even think about sex with him.
If Marie barged in today, and gave her any grief about the state of the house, the kids, or the pot roast in the oven, Debra thought she just might lose it altogether.
She went upstairs to collect laundry from the twins’ room, being careful not to wake her two tow-headed darlings. Then the front door burst open. She heard Marie’s thick thighs rub together as the meddlesome woman walked through the door. Tell me how to run my family, try running yourself to the diet store.
Debra grabbed the laundry basket and started down the steps. Marie hadn’t spoken a word yet, and as Debra rounded the corner she saw the large profile view of her mother-in-law’s hindquarters. She was already in the oven tampering with the roast. What nerve!
Debra decided to stop in the living room and see what she would do. Marie took the roast from the oven, smelled it, and carried it outside, muttering that it was only fit for stray dogs. That was it. Debra rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the marble rolling pin from the counter. She exited through the back door, rage building as she went.
There Marie was, actually tossing the dinner, tray and all into the garbage. Before she even thought what to do next, Debra saw the rolling pin crash into her mother-in-law’s head. One hit and the woman was down. Wow! I thought there’d be more blood, aren’t head wounds supposed to bleed more? Oh well, don’t ponder too much on that. Just get to work.
Using the kids sled Debra pulled Marie back inside, then up the stairs to the bathroom. Then she woke up the twins and took them across the street. She told Frank she needed him to watch them for a couple hours.
“Sure,” he said. “Hey, have you seen Marie? I’m starving, and she didn’t make me lunch.”
Time was running out. Ally would be home from school in two hours, and Raymond would be back from golf soon. “I’ll make you a sandwich, okay, Frank?”
“Okay. Hey, don’t forget the pickles!”
Just wait till you get dinner, ha-ha. She made a sandwich quickly with leftover ham, tomatoes, lettuce and cheddar. Pickles on the side. Then ran back across the street.
With scissors, she cut off Marie’s clothes. Boy, I really never wanted to see this. Then she turned on the shower, and ran back down the stairs to get the meat cleaver and electric knife, and a roll of heavy black garbage bags.
It was bloody work, Debra hacked off Marie’s head with the cleaver, placed it in a bag, which she secured with a twist-tie. Then she used the electric knife to cut through the flesh of her mother-in-law’s upper arms, to the shoulder socket. Then using the cleaver she separated the arms from the torso. She then repeated the process with the legs. After sawing through the skin at Marie’s left knee, Debra skinned Marie’s left thigh, cut the meat from the bone, placed the leg meat in one bag and sat it off to the side.
She then bagged up the rest of the pieces, and torso, and carried it all downstairs, a bag at a time. It wouldn’t all fit in the garbage cans, so she put the torso bag in the shed in the back yard, then ran back in to clean up the tub and shower the blood off herself. She bagged her bloody clothes, and added them to the garbage can.
Preparing the leg meat was easier than she expected. In no time Debra had a new roast in the oven, and ran across the street to get the twins.
“Come on over for dinner later, Frank,” she said. Then she took the kids home and called Amy to invite her and Robert. “It’s a meal we’ll all remember.”
The children were seated in the living room with hot dogs and grilled cheese, the adults at the dining room table. The roast sat in the center of the table, parsley sprigs and basil leaves accented its golden brown caramel color, garlic mashed potatoes, and roasted carrots complimented the meal. As Debra poured wine, Raymond carved the roast.
“Holy crap!” said Frank. “This is freaking delicious!”
“Yeah, Debra,” Robert said, touching a forkful of meat to his chin. “It’s so juicy, but a bit gamey, maybe. What kind of roast is this?”
Debra started laughing uncontrollably. Before she could say anything Raymond said, “Hey, anybody seen Mom? She’d actually love this meal.”
Debra took a drink of wine, “No, Ray, I don’t think she’d like this meal at all.”