Earl's Sock Drawer by michaelcahill
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It's the little things that add up over the years to make a marriage. Earl's sock drawer in their cozy bedroom was a bone of contention. He didn't mind the disorganized mess but, she did. It was one small thing, not a deal breaker.
Earl hid Betty's inhaler in his sock drawer. Black and white socks thrown together, pick two the same, that's a pair. She hated his damn drawer. To her, a neatly organized drawer was a sign of caring and class. That worthless old coot has none. She smiled hiding his insulin in the drawer. Damn fool… he'll never find it. Earl lit a fat cigar. Betty was beside herself. "You old bastard! Whatcha tryin' to do, kill me? You know I can't handle that foul thing. Out!" She rummaged through her purse. Earl left giggling. He returned with German chocolate cake. "What is it dear? Can't find something?" "Can't… breathe… inhaler... " She was sprawled on the bed. Her dresser was disheveled. Earl felt his blood sugar skyrocketing. Need insulin or I'll be joining the old bag. "What… dear? Can't find… it? Too bad… " He found his bag but no insulin. "Where is it? I'm going into a damn coma!" Betty looked at him and smirked. She was barely breathing. "You bitch! Where is it?" They reached for each other's throats, died and fell into each other's arms. The cops found them that way. Sergeant Lawrence was quite moved. "Aww, so sweet. Lovers for eternity."
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