Death by Tabasco - Part 2

At I sat there, I began to think back over the years and I can't say that I remember ever having a good day with Clive, poor sap. We met at the restaurant where I worked as a waitress in the middle of town. All I can figure is that he must have caught me at a weak moment when he asked me to marry him because I said, "Yes." Oh, he wasn't too bad at the beginning but, like cheese that's been left out too long, he began to stink over time.

He was cute enough, granted. Though, that's not enough when all you care about is yourself and if Clive were good at anything, it was caring about himself. It wouldn't have been so bad if the boys didn't adopt the same attitude. Well, it can't be said that they didn't learn anything.

I can't complain about my life. After all, I was the one who accepted Clive's proposal and I've always believed that you have to take the consequences that come with making choices, good or bad. Life wasn't terrible, but I could have used a few more roses and not as many thorns, that's for sure.

I'd like to believe that I was Clive's "trophy wife" but couldn't compete with his beloved bull moose head that was proudly mounted above the fireplace in the living room. What an eyesore! I decided then and there, as I sat in my recliner, that "old moosey" would be the first thing to go...that is...after I buried Clive.

He liked to tell people that he wrestled that bull moose down to the ground with his bare hands but, fact is, he'd hit it with his pick-up truck and had to call the sheriff. Sheriff Otto had to put the poor beast out of its misery and shot him. I'm positive that Clive gave Otto an entire paycheck to ensure Otto's silence. But, between paying Otto and having to buy a new pick-up, there wasn't much left over for groceries.

For that, I got my revenge. I kept feeding Clive hot dogs and beans for two months straight until he begged for mercy. I keep wondering if it was because I'd secretly put prunes in with the beans and then started adding a drop or two of Tabasco to disguise the taste of the prunes. I never liked bean myself and Clive never thought twice about it as I sat there eating my chicken Caesar salad. He believed that a salad wasn't "real food" and made fun of me for eating what he liked to call, "rabbit leftovers."

As you can imagine, after Month Two of beans and hot dogs, he seemed to change his mind about my "rabbit leftovers" and I would catch him looking longingly at my plate. Who can blame him? I'm sure he was getting tired of those frequent trips to the bathroom.

I too pity on him after awhile and never served hot dogs and beans ever again. Although, he did admit to liking the taste of Tabasco. So, that's when I started adding a few drops into the popcorn oil. It ended up being a treat for both of us, which gave us probably the only thing we had in common.