River of Blood: Myrtle's dream

Something woke Myrtle; she wasn't sure what.The clock read 4:00am, and the room was chilly.She had been having the same, wonderful dream that she regularly had for the last six years: Sunny and warm,the cloudless cerulean sky made Myrtle smile.It was midsummer and the ocean waves were soft; the small speedboat only rocked the least little bit.It had been her husband's idea to take the boat out and do some fishing ; it was a great idea, she thought. She got out her old binoculars and took a 360 degree look. The shoreline was almost out of view on the horizon, and no other boats were in sight.She took off all her clothes and folded them neatly, putting them under the tarp.The sea air felt soothing on her pale, overweight, naked body; she felt liberated. Puzo, her sodden husband, was fishing, smoking an awful smelling,cheap cigar, all the while barking orders at her to do this or that.Soon he would pass out- not from his horrible tasting Lemoncello,but from the strong sedative Myrtle put in each of the four refills. At last the cigar fell out of his mouth,the fishing pole dropped and Puzo Rinier slumped in his folding chair.She waited a couple minutes more and then she went up to him and started hitting him on the back of the head with the hammer she brought with her on board. She must have hit him twenty times or more.One time for each of his affairs, she thought.It was exhilarating! His skull and face were a bloody pulp. She knew he was dead but she kept pounding him anyway.Yes, she thought.Good riddance! She did everything the Internet explained , and she finally got his weighted down body into the water. Afterwards, she sat in the bloody chair exhausted but satisfied.A while later,Myrtle took the boat back nearer the shoreline,threw the chair and hammer over the side, cleaned up the boat with bleach,washed off in the cool but bearable ocean, put her clothes on and reached home before dark. Myrtle loved having this dream. If she were a different person, perhaps, it would be a nightmare. Instead it was a comforting, consistent reminder that she had done the right thing.