Word Count: 210
His wife was a woman who believed in cliches. Before he could stop her she’d bit off her tongue, shot herself in the foot, and given her right arm away.
She cut off her nose just in spite of her face and put money where her mouth used to be. Gave an ear to town gossip, her eyeteeth for a ticket, and the thorn in her side got infected.
He was at his wit’s end. When she gave her voice to opinion he thought maybe all would be over and done.
He took her to dinner but she ate like a bird. She soon was as thin as a rail. He did what he could to plump her, to tape parts back on, but he was beginning to worry.
He took her to bed, whispered sweet nothings into the one ear she had left to listen. Saw a spark of the woman he’d married, a passion rise in her heart.
Slowly he undressed her and quickly undressed himself. His hopes fired up when her one arm reached out to pull him inside. Then just as both reached their height of excitement, and in front of his horrified eyes, her head exploded, rolled off and was lost somewhere under the bed.
Fifty Shades of Cliche. So well done.
Thank you, Marcus. It’s a little bit lazy on my part, but writing’s hard work!