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She’d had enough of him, the verbal abuse, his infidelity, the beatings. She’d just had enough, and it was stopping as of right now! If her plan worked, not only would the abuse stop, but he’ll be gone forever, and… if everything goes as planned, she may even get a new house.

She hoped the third time would be the charm as she lit the acetylene torch with the flint striker. The other two light bulbs had been a disaster. Holding the flame on the base too long had melted the glass into a sticky blob.

She carefully held the 100 watt light bulb in her left hand with an oven mitt, while concentrating the blue flame of the torch on the threaded base. This time, she lifted the flame off the metal base every few seconds until it was just hot enough to separate from the glass bulb. When she heard the gas escape from the bulb, she shut off the torch, and quickly placed another oven mitt on her right hand. Slowly, she separated the metal base from the glass bulb, making sure not to damage the filament. Then she took the one-gallon can of gasoline off the workbench, filled a plastic cup full of gas, and then carefully poured it into the light bulb until the bulb was completely full.

With the bulb wrapped in a washcloth to prevent it from breaking, she placed it in a vise on the workbench, and slowly screwed the jaws around it to hold it steady. Then she rubbed some epoxy on the narrow end of the bulb and also inside the metal base and slipped the two pieces together.

She stared down at the completed project and realized the gasoline bomb represented her future; a future free of his vicious beatings. The bulb also represented financial independence, especially if the house burns down and the money starts to flow in from the home and life insurance policies.

One step to go and she’d be rid of the bastard forever. All that was left was to screw the gas-filled bulb into the socket on the ceiling of the workroom, and wait for him to come home. If everything worked properly, he’d come home drunk as usual; walk directly into the workroom, and grab a tall one from the old spare refrigerator in the room that he used exclusively for beer. Except she knew he’d never get that far, since he had to switch on the overhead light first.

The workroom was the perfect location for her murderous plan. The light switch was three feet from the door, so he would be well into the room’s interior by the time he switched on the light. With the switch on, the 120 volts will push less than an amp of current through the filament, but it will be enough to burn it white hot. In a matter of seconds, the filament will reach the correct temperature, and ignite the gas into an enormous explosion that will rain fire and glass on him. Soon after his body is aflame, the gas can and propane tanks, stored nearby, will explode and obliterate the room, the house, and him, thus alleviating her burden forever. Then she’ll be free. As if to justify her actions, she felt the bruise on her left cheek, still tender from the previous night’s beating.

She made sure the light switch was turned off before setting the stepladder directly underneath the overhead light. She shined the flashlight on the socket as she screwed the gas bomb into it. Just as she had finished screwing in the bulb, she looked across the room and saw his huge shoulders and spiky hair silhouetted in the door from the eerie light of the kitchen.

"What the hell are you standing in the dark for?" he asked, as he reached for the light switch

Copyright 2007 J. J. White
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