A great read from Robert Goldstein, flash fiction. M
It was then I realized Roy had murdered his first wife and cared
nothing for his son, Little Jimmy.
I strolled with little Jimmy to the New Haven Green and asked if
he wanted a new Mommy.
“N-Not if Daddy kills her!” he replied.
It was then I thought of cigarettes and contrived a plan.
I married Roy and slowly introduced him to cigarettes.
He smoked a carton a day by our first anniversary.
One day, twenty years later, Little Jimmy returned from Yale.
Roy wheezed as I lit his cigarette.
“Trina!” Roy gasped, “You whore!”
“Shut-up,” I snapped. “Here! I’ll break off the filter!”
“Muthuh!” cried Jimmy, “Leave Fathuh alone or I’ll report you to the Surgeon General!”
“You and what lobby?” I sneered.
However, I was nervous and hastily swallowed the lit evidence.
I asked Jimmy what he had learned at Yale that day.
“Schematics,” he replied.
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