Lucy Deen steadied the ugly black automatic pistol in a two-handed grip and lined up the sights on the shiny iridescent bass body. She blinked away angry tears that threatened to ruin her aim and squeezed the trigger.
The fish exploded in a shower of ruined scales and fins that floated down like some sort of bizarre confetti.
The recoil knocked her arms up, staggering her. She struggled to brace her legs but the hardwood under her Topsiders wasn't as steady and solid as it had been fifteen minutes ago. Her knees buckled and she sat down hard, threadbare denim and Victoria Secret panties did nothing to cushion the blow to her tailbone. Adrenalin fueled anger blunted the pain instead.
"What the fuck was that?" Gary Deen shouted from the other side of the door.
Lucy took aim on Gary's most prized trophy--a freakishly large marlin, frozen in a permanent writhing leap from the ocean with a hook and a length of heavy fishing line dripping from its mouth.
Gary appeared in the doorway of his study just as Lucy pulled the trigger a second time shattering the lacquered body of the marlin like an eggshell. Bits of marlin confetti rained down to join the bass confetti on the study floor.
"You crazy bitch!" Gary screamed. "What do you think you're doing?"
Sitting on the floor amid glittering fish parts, Lucy looked up at her husband. "I thought this was 'do the most damaging and destructive thing you can think of' day. Did I get it wrong?"
"You're insane. Those trophies are irreplaceable."
"Oh, come on Gary, didn't you just get finished telling me there are other fish in your sea?" She sighted again and another bass exploded.
Gary took two aggressive steps toward Lucy.
She swung the gun in his direction, pointing it in the general area of his dick. "If you want to maintain your ability to spawn you'd better back off."
Gary froze in his tracks and Lucy breathed a secret sigh of relief. If she'd been forced to shoot him she'd probably have gotten arrested and a body cavity search would have taken all the fun out of castrating him.
"Don't think I'm letting you get away with this," Gary said. "I was prepared to make a reasonable offer for support in the divorce settlement. Now, I'll be happy to see you broke. And don't think I'm going to let you keep the house either."
Lucy shifted her aim up toward his chest and studied him, fascinated by the vein throbbing at his temple and the way his mouth opened and closed without sound. He looked just like one of the fish. "Get out before I decide it's worth it."
He did the smart thing and left the room. Lucy heard him pause at the foot of the stairs to pick up his suitcase and a few seconds later the sound of the garage door going up and the BMW's engine coming to life.
Thirty seconds after he left the room, the last sounds of Gary's leaving faded.
Lucy put the pistol on the floor between her outstretched legs and held her breath, listening to the pounding of her heart, waiting for a feeling to replace her spent rage. For several long second there was nothing, just emptiness.
Last week her home had been filled with the sounds of hope and joy. Ryan and his friends spending their last days of summer talking about the anticipated wonders of college life.
Ryan left for the University of Georgia yesterday leaving quiet in his wake.
Two minutes ago Gary walked out after announcing he was filing for divorce.
Her home was now an utterly silent, oversized mausoleum.
Lucy's stomach rolled.
She ran for the closest bathroom and threw up, repeatedly and violently.
Face to face with the toilet bowl, it suddenly occurred to her that she'd be able to go into any bathroom in the house in the dark and sit on the toilet without fear of falling in. No more pee drips on the outside of the toilet bowls or the bathroom rugs.
She considered the possibility she was going a little nuts. Thinking about toilet seats and piss couldn't be normal when you'd just been told your twenty-one year old marriage was over.
When the dry heaves subsided, she rinsed out her mouth with minty-fresh mouthwash and splashed water on her face.
She recognized the cold, hard ball in the pit of her stomach--it was fear. Looking into the mirror above the sink, she was surprised to find the woman looking back at her didn't look twenty.
She looked like a terrified forty-five year old.