We made plans to go to the fanciest restaurant:

"Maybe we should go on a double date," he suggested.

"I don't see why not," I replied.

"You ought to meet my secretary and her husband. They are quite an interesting couple," he said.

Under my breath, I said "Yeah, interesting."

"What?" he asked.

"I said that I'd call them up. What's their number?"

Later that evening, we were sitting at our table in the restaurant. We had already ordered our food.

"You look fabulous, honey," he said.

"You don't look half bad yourself," I replied.

"I wonder where John and Martha are?" he asked.

". . . John is your secretary's husband, right?"

"Yes," he replied.

It was getting late.

"Where in blazes are John and Martha?" he asked.

I ignored him.

"And where is our food?"

I paused. "It should be here any second," I replied.

And I was right. The waiter set two covered platters on our table. The waiter looked like a typical waiter for a fancy restaurant: an old man with neatly trimmed gray hair, and of course, a nice suit. What my husband did not know was that he was a former colleague of mine. Oh well, what my husband doesn't know wont hurt him!

"Well, John and Martha aren't here, but I sure bet this food is going to be outstanding," he eagerly exclaimed.

I could feel the tension building up inside me. My husband didn't have that look on his face, however; he looked very excited.

The waiter slowly trotted a few steps away, but lingered near the table.

I took the cover off the first platter. Inside was a piece of paper with something jotted on it. I then took off the cover of the second platter. My husband gasped in shock. On the platter contained two human heads. On the left was John's head, and on the right was Martha's head.

I leaped across the table over to my husband. My husband was covering his face with his hands. I exerted as much force as possible on his head with my right hand in order to tip over the chair. I then grabbed the chair with my left hand, and reached my right hand into my pocket. I pulled a switch knife from the pocket, and thrust the blade deep into his heart. A river of crimson was pouring from his chest. I let go of the chair and pulled the knife out. I sat back down on the table and watched as the chair fell to the ground. I knew he was dead as soon as that chair hit the ground. I leaned over and glanced at the note from the first platter: "Thus begins my vengeance."