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"I see you have been sat on your lazy ass again", Betty said almost as soon as she walked into the living room to find Henry sat reading another horror book.

"Do you always have to be such a ******* face ache?"

"What did you call me? I have been working my ass of all day and all you can do is sit reading them sick porn books", her face began to turn an unnatural purple as anger surged into her plump face.

"There not sick porn honey there horror novels, and this is my research."

"Don't you honey me Henry, you say you are writing a best selling novel, but I have not seen **** to date."

"That’s because I am researching", Henry told her. He knew she was right; he had been trying to write a story for close to a month now but all he had to show was a dusty type writer. But he was just waiting for his muse to appear, he was sure she would. If only he could get a bit of piece and quiet.

"Why don’t you move your arse in gear and research a job like the rest of us normal human beings?" the color was coming back to her now, but anger still burned in her eyes.

"I told you, give me 3 months and if I fail, then I will go and find one."

"Well you could at least do some house work once in a while? I’m going to go and check my babies while you sit there and start to rot", with that she turned and marched out of the room.

Henry couldn’t help but laugh to himself. "Babies she called them, she says I was nuts, but she spends more time looking after her bed of roses than she does herself", he thought with a large grin on his face.

"Henry, Henry, Henry" Betty came rushing into the room all flustered and teary eyed. Henry thought for a split second that she looked rather human for once rather than her usual cold self.

"What’s wrong with you now?"

"My, my, my babies are ruined", she said fighting back the tide of tears.

"What do you mean ruined?"

"That great big dog next door, that filthy flea bag the Robinsons call a pet has flattened them all, and it’s your fault"

"My fault" Henry said sheepishly, almost knowing what was coming next.

"If you had not been sat in that chair all day you would have heard something, but no you can’t do anything right. I don’t know why I married you."

"No ones keeping you here" Henry said it before realizing. Now he was going to get it.

"This is my house, my money and my life, if any one will go it is you", spit was flying from her lips hitting Henry in the face. "And you know something, I don’t want you anymore. You can get out my house right now mister. Me and you are finished."

"What the hell? You’re throwing me out over some stupid roses"

"Stupid roses, I’ll show you stupid", with that her left hand flew out striking Henry across his spit drenched cheek, stinging him and bringing tears to his eyes.

Henry had been making notes in his novel when she burst in like a crazy woman, and after the slap, his own clenched right hand shot out and struck Betty under the jaw.

Only Henry was still holding the fountain pen in his hand. The same pen that had now lodged into Betty’s throat making blood squirt into an ark all over the living room.

A small grin came over his face as he stood looking at his wife of fourteen years fall to the floor making a horrible wheezing noise. He bent over her and looked into her eyes. No more anger, just fear in them.

It took a good hour for Betty to stop breathing, but Henry just sat and read his novel in peace. When she finally shut her trap hole, Henry decided he would have to bury her somewhere, and there was no more fitting place than with her 'babies'.

"Well darling it looks like it’s the end for us, but don't worry you will still have your babies, and ill be sure to water them every day", with that Henry carefully wrapped her body in their blood soaked floor rug. He heaved her over his shoulder and headed outside.

It took a good hour to dig the hole for his wife. But Henry was to busy thinking about the idea he had for his horror novel. When the job was done he carefully put his spade away and walked back towards the bed of roses. Lowering his trouser zipper he began to urinate.

"Told you I would water them everyday honey....... rest in piss you stupid old *****" Henry said to himself, grinning at the remark, he decided it was time to go write his best selling story now.

A loud screaming woke Henry from his dreams of naked women writhing in a bed of roses.

Again more screaming came from his own back yard, he looked at the flashing clock on the bed stand. 9:30am and he had only slept for an hour, his muse had been with him all night filling his mind with lurid and horrific images for his book.

Loud talking from out side made Henry rise and head to his window. Out in his garden was Dave Robinson cradling his wife in his arms, just in front of them, their big scruffy dog had its big bloody head deep inside Betty's open stomach, and intestines were spread out around her muddy body. A great hole was where the bed of roses should have been.

Henry glanced down at the paper sticking from his type writer.....

"That stupid ***** ruins everything" he said with a grin on his old wrinkled face..............