Caught Wife In Our Bedroom! I Put Them Both In The Ground,

I am on my way home with another of those horrible headaches. The doctors at the VA say they are caused by the metal plate in my head. I doubt their conclusions. That plate has been there for 10 years. And the headache started about 5 months ago, just about the same time my wife of 3 years went to work as a receptionist for that law firm in town. Let me give you some background.

I am Bobby Turner. I was a marine for 4 years back in the 60s. You guessed it. I was hit by a  mortar. I’ll call them what I damn please. Remember, I am the one with a plate in my head. After a few months in various hospitals, I was discharged and came home to the farm. Let’s make this short and sweet.

I was on disability, not really enough to live on, so I went back to school. Now I am a heavy equipment operator for the county. I keep a grater and a backhoe in my barn out back of the house. Usually on days like today, I am out with the grater smoothing out the sand roads in the county. But today was an office day.

That’s what we called sitting in a classroom going over all the new federal, state, and county regulations. I sat listening for about 2 hours when I decided I had to lie down. My boss was aware of my medical condition and did not object when I told him I needed to leave. Like I told you before, I do not think these headaches are caused by that plate in my head.

There is a disturbance in the force. 6 months ago, my wife decided she wanted to go to work. I objected. Our house and farm were passed down to me when my dad died. With my disability and my job, we had more than enough money, but she insisted and I caved. She found work at a law office as a receptionist. I warned her about the son of the founder of the firm.

I knew him from school. He was tall, handsome, and rich, of course, but he was a real ladies man. He dated every good-looking girl in school and always bragged about his conquests. We both played sports, and in the locker room, he walked around naked, bragging about his big banana and how no girl could resist it.

As the song says, “Rich kids go to college, poor kids go to war. That’s exactly what happened. When I came home, he was a lawyer and I had a plate in my head. Last night, my wife and I had another argument. I want to start a family. She wants to wait. How much longer? She is uncertain, but she keeps looking away when we talk.

I know something is wrong, and I think I know what it is. Now, let’s talk about my wife, Sue. I met her four years ago. She had gone to work out of high school as a receptionist at a factory. She had boyfriends and was not a virgin. No problem. Neither was I. We dated for over a year before I asked her to marry me.

She had grown up in a city two counties over and never lived on a farm. But she told me that was a dream of hers. Living out in the country, having a horse and tending a garden. She wanted four kids. Sounds like my perfect woman. We married and everything was great for the first couple of years. I bought us two horses and we rode a lot.

We even started doing overnight trips and camped in the forest. Then she started with the wanting to go to work. I suspected something, but I could not put my finger on anything. I want you to know that I am 6t tall and weigh 1 to 90. I try to stay in good shape and I am considered good-looking.

Sue is 5’8 in tall and about 115 lb. She has blonde hair and blue eyes and nice 34B breasts that are very sensitive. We both drive nice cars, me a Ford truck, actually. Like I said, I feel the disturbance getting stronger as I approach our farm. I see the reason as I turn the corner. That attorney’s blue Corvette is parked in front of my house.

I cut the engine and coast to a stop. In my glove box is a 1911 Colt45. I take it out and chamber around. This  ends today. I go through the side door and ease into the den. I hear them in our bedroom. I start down the hall when I see a letter addressed to me on the coffee table. Quietly, I pick it up and read. Bobby, I want you to know that I did once truly love you and I am sorry about all this, but it is what it is.

I met Paul about 8 months ago while shopping at the mall in Memphis. He took me to lunch and we had a few drinks. All those stories about his big banana had me intrigued. We ended up at a Ramada Inn. I was hooked. When that job opening came up at his office, he got me hired. We spent a couple of days a week being intimate, either in his office or at his house.

Those late nights and Sunday afternoon shopping trips were spent with him. We fell in love. Now he has to go to Miami to deal with a client. And he invited me to go with him. When we get back, I will file for divorce and move my things into his house. We will be gone for about a week, so that will give you time to cool down.

I know how hot-headed you can be at times. Bobby, I am really sorry to hurt you like this, and I really did love you, but his banana, it touches me in places I have never been touched. Please try to understand, Sue. She is about to find out how hotheaded I really can be and how I will never understand. I sneak down the hall and stand at the bedroom door.

Paul is on top of her for all he is worth. I tap the door with the barrel of the 45. They both look up at the same time. Paul jumps up as his jism is spraying all over everything.  Bobby, you scared the hell out of me. put that gun down and we’ll get dressed and leave. He has a smirk on his face.

Paul, just shut up and stand there while I talk to my wife. Look, you are not going to shoot anybody, he replied. I fired the first round over his head and into the wall. Sue started screaming. Bobby, please just let us leave. I’ll divorce you and I don’t want a thing. Just let us go. I read your letter in the den.

This is all about his big banana. Pretty much, she said. I look over at Paul and he is grinning. Okay, that pissed me off. His limp banana was hanging down between his legs. I put a round about an inch up above its head. That’s when things got really loud. Paul was screaming and grabbing at his banana.

It is about 2 in shorter than it was a couple of minutes ago. When his hand grabbed, it must have hurt more because he sure screamed louder and fell to his knees beside the bed. He was bleeding pretty badly. Then he started vomiting. He had eaten a big breakfast. He rolled over on his side, mumbling something about my ancestors. Sue was sitting on the bed with her knees bent up to her chest.

She was looking directly at me when she asked, “You read the letter?” I replied, “Yes.” He made me put in that line about his big banana, but it really was the truth, wasn’t it? Yes. He just wanted you to know. He likes bragging about his big banana. Bobby, please. I need an ambulance, he replied.

When he looked up at me, I said, “No, you don’t. You need a grave.” My next round hit him in his left eye. What brains he had were on the floor behind him. Sue was suddenly quiet. Bobby, please. I never gave you sloppy seconds or even seconds. The days we were intimate, I came home with a headache or on my period or something. Any excuse I could think of so that you would not find out about us.

What’s this cheating woman thinking? Maybe that I will forgive her and we’ll live happily ever after. As she smiled, I smiled back at her and said, “Thanks.” My next shot hit her in the forehead. I wrapped their bodies in sheets from the bed and carried them out to that corvette. I put them together as I found them naked in the passenger seat.

I found his keys in his pants pocket and drove them out behind the barn. It was out of sight in case anybody drove by. I cleaned up the room and opened the windows. I had to use a can of air freshener to get the smell of vomit out of the air. I stuffed all the paper towels and clothes into a garbage bag and threw them on top of them in the car.

Next, I went to the barn and started the back hoe. In less than 2 hours, everything was buried and covered up. I figured there was no use saying words over them. The devil did not want to hear them. I went back to the house and called the sheriff’s office. I got Sheriff Parker on the phone and explained that I had found a letter that told me my wife was running off with that  attorney, Paul.

I asked his advice on what to do. Look, Bobby, call a divorce attorney and get things rolling. When they get back, get them served. It’s best to get out in front of things like this. I hung up and called an attorney in the next county. I made an appointment for the next day. I took the letter with me and she made copies.

It was in Sue’s handwriting, so it was made an exhibit. She would have the papers ready when they returned. I packed everything of Sue’s up in plastic garbage bags and set them beside her car in the garage. The next day, I was back grading roads in the county. The force was back to normal.

Well, you guessed it. They did not return for a week. In 10 days, I was getting calls from the law office wanting to know if I had heard from my wife. Then about two weeks later, the sheriff’s office sent a detective out to take a statement. I referred him to my attorney. I showed him all of Sue’s crap sitting by her car waiting for her.

I never heard from him again. It was about a month later that the feds came by one night after I had gotten off work. They had some interesting questions. Do you know a Jose Gonzalez? No. Should I? I replied. How about Emanuel Gonzalez? him either. What is this all about? I replied. The client Paul was on the way to see in Miami was Jose, who is Manuel’s father.

Paul had represented him in a drug trafficking case last year and had committed an error during the trial. He asked a question he did not know the answer to, and it opened a can of worms for his client, Manuel. He was found guilty and sentenced to 50 years in federal prison. Jose wanted Paul to represent his son on an appeal.

That should have been a red flag, but Jose wired $100,000 to Paul’s firm’s account and asked him to come to Miami to discuss the case since he was sick and could not travel. Like an idiot, Paul thinks he is going to get more money for a big appeal. And he decides to take your wife, who he had been having an affair with, for almost a year.

Paul filled up his Corvette in town. We know this because he used his credit card. We think he then came out here and picked up your wife and they started out for Miami. We cannot find another gas receipt. So, the Colombians must have got to them before they stopped for gas or to eat. That’s what we figure anyway. What does this Jose have to say about it? I inquired. Nothing.

He went into a hospital about a week after they disappeared and he died 6 days later. We never got to question him on the matter. Well, I guess that means I can get rid of all her  I have it in garbage bags in the garage. You are welcome to look through it if you want, I answered. That will not be necessary.

We would like a copy of that letter she left just for our files. No problem. I found them a copy of the letter and they left. That was over 30 years ago, and I have not felt a disturbance in the force since the day I buried Sue and Paul under what is now my hog pen.