I hate Thanksgiving leftovers.
Every year it’s the same thing.
My wife and I eat Thanksgiving dinner together at our place.
The next day we go to Robyn’s for Thanksgiving leftovers. Robyn is Theresa’s mother. Theresa is my wife.
Robyn’s never accepted me. She doesn’t think I’m good enough for Theresa. Now it would be one thing if Robyn had a real reason not to accept me, but not good enough just isn’t good enough for me.
I’d rather her hate my hair or the way I dress. Anything would be better than not good enough.
Yet every year I find myself looking across the table into my mother-in-law’s glaring eyes, that look of disdain plain on her face. When I put my hand over Theresa’s, sometimes I see Robyn’s lip curl back in disgust. It makes me want to do what anyone else would and reach across the table to smack that stupid look off her face.
Yesterday, after Theresa and I finished our Thanksgiving meal, I sat her down and we had a serious talk. I told her I wanted to bond with her mother. I told her that the stability of our marriage depended on it.
Theresa was loving and completely supportive.
Today, I drove over to Robyn’s and we talked for a long time. I told Robyn to level with me. I told her to tell me what I needed to do to get her approval. She sneered down at me and told me that she would never accept me. She told me that I was disgusting and God thought I was disgusting as well.
Something inside me broke then.
I realized that this woman would never accept us. I realized that Robyn would never accept me.
So I did what anyone else would do; I punched her in the face. She went down hard, and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head.
I guess I cold-cocked her. I’d never hit anyone in my life before. The pain in my hand surprised me. It really stung, but I sighed and did what anyone else would do; I pulled the pack of razor blades out of my bra and the ball-peen hammer out from the waist of my skirt.
Then I did what anyone else would do, I slipped a razor blade between each of her teeth and hammered them up into her gums.
I’m still not sure what I’m going to tell my wife.
All I know is that I fucking hate Thanksgiving leftovers.