But, unfortunately for her, the head with the patch over one eye managed to grab hold of her ankle with its teeth and whatever she tried to do it wouldn't let go.
Hell thought Celly I have to stop eating pizza with anchovies at midnight, its giving me some incredible nightmares.
Celly looked across at her husband of 15 years, who was still sleeping peacefully.
But then a thought popped into her head, and it made her pulse race: Wouldn't his face make a great first trophy if she started a severed-head collection? A slow grin spread across her face. Maybe she should eat anchovies more often; it gave her a startling clarity of thought. After all, what was her button collection, when compared to a severed-head collection?
...but so does her husband's head. Ooooh... Choices. So many choices. That's it! Let's just do it, she thought. Cecily shot out bed and sped to the kitchen to fetch a large knife. This was soooo exciting. She was trotting back to sever that perfect head when she was intercepted half-way by her sleepy husband.
"What are you doing up, dear?" she asked him sweetly.
Cecily put the knife away and started the coffee, her disappointment evident in the set of her shoulders and in the way she shuffled about as she made breakfast.
to paint faces on all the shells. The first one looked uncomfortably like her poor husband's dismembered head. The excited feeling took hold again and she headed once more for the knife drawer.
but to her astonishment she found her husband's decapitated body lying on the floor with his blood splattered across the bathroom. His head was nowhere to be seen.
But then her schizophrenic side took over once again, grabbed the bloody knife from the shower curtain, and decided to hide the evidence before her normal side took over again. At least Cecily never knew about her schizophrenia; she just thought she was having periods of memory loss.
As she poured acidic chemicals in her tube to soak her husbands body, a wrap on her apartment door triggered her normal side. She screamed, looking down at the body.
What have you done? Cecily cried.
<Shut up and go back to sleep. It's all your fault anyway>. Cecily looked into the mirror and smiled. Were those crows feet in the corner of her eyes? She frowned. The sound of sobbing whispered through her mind. You killed my husband!
<Stop your sniveling, you little rag.>
A loud and persistent knocking at Cecily's front door brought her out of her stupor.
She walked to the door and upon opening it discovered her in laws waiting to be let in.
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