The Unfortunate Coffee Incident #WODW

by - 12:57 PM

This is my participation in Write or Die Wednesday! Enjoy! 

"The Unfortunate Coffee Incident" {A fictitious short} by Claire Granger 

I did everything right.

I followed all the guidelines for being a good wife. I read all the blogs and articles. I communicated, I compromised, I sacrificed, and I gave it 110%. I spent months in therapy trying to come to terms with my unhappiness. 

But why wouldn't he try? While I was giving it 110%, he was giving it 50% on his good days, 10% on a normal one.

I didn't have a partner and lover, I had a child. A child who wouldn't participate in housework, who devalued my career, whose idea of lovemaking including grunting and grinding on top of me for all of five minutes while I laid there practically comatose just attempting to feel something from the attempt.

Yet, despite all of his shortcomings, I stayed. I stayed and I tried know, divorce is bad, right? I married him because I loved him, so I just had to stick it out and eventually the young man who courted me and swept me off my feet would come back, right?

Or the middle aged asshat would cheat on me.

That's what he did. He cheated. He thinks I don't know, but I do.

How do I know, you ask?

Well, smart man that he is, he left his laptop open while he took a shower last night. Open and logged into Facebook. Imagine my surprise when WENDI (with an 'i' of course) sent him a message asking if his "bitch wife" was asleep yet. This obviously peaked my curiosity and led to me checking his saved passwords log to get his password so that I could read it in it's entirety after he went to sleep.

Not only did he have months of chat logs with Wendi, but there were four other women with months and even years of chat logs. Several had meet up dates and times and lots of conversations about their meetings.

The jackass had been cheating for years.

So now I sit here at the breakfast table, my coffee mug in one hand, my tablet in the other. Pretending like this is any other morning.

He comes into the room, grumbles something like a greeting, goes to grab a mug of coffee when I say, "Oh honey, I made you a cup already. Hot and sweet just like you like it."

I flash him a big grin and he smiles stupidly and comes to sit in front of me.

When he sits down, the pudge of a beer gut protrudes under his white tshirt giving me a view that I am certainly not going to miss.

I resist the urge to scowl and instead give him my perky, happy face. I watch him pick up the mug and take a sip.

My left eyebrow rises as I wait for the reaction. It should happen any-

There it is. He gasps and sputters and grabs his throat pretty much instantly.

I click my tongue and stand to walk around the table to his side, my robe swaying slightly as I move.

"Why, honey, I do believe some peanut oil must have landed in your coffee."

His eyes widen and he's sucking for air when he suddenly dares to look hopeful when he sees whats in my right hand.

"You want your epi-pen, don't you?"

He's nodding frantically.

"Well, I want a divorce. So, I'm going to give you this shot, and then you're going to pack up all your shit and get the fuck out. Go live with one of your whores, I don't care, but your bitch wife is done."

He nods again, eyes turning red as he can't get enough air.

I take the cap off of the injection and stab it into his thigh, perhaps a little harder than necessary.

It only takes a few minutes for his breathing to steady.

"Sweetheart-" he starts.

"Don't sweetheart me you asshole. Get your shit, and get out. Next time I won't have an epi pen around. And peanuts are one of those things that could end up anywhere really." I said dismissively, picking up my piece of toast and taking a bite.

He scratches the top of his head, looks around frantically like he's trying to find a way out of his mess.

Well, he's had 10 years. I'd say that's long enough.

I hold up the bottle of peanut oil without even looking in his direction. "Do we have a problem?"

"No, no problem. Shit. Okay, I'm leaving." He says hurriedly.

I hear him rustling around our bedroom for a few things to throw into a bag. He pleads with me one last time and I again hold up the bottle. It was my magic "shut up" potion.

As the door shuts behind his sagging ass, I let out a deep breath and look around.

I'm not sure what tomorrow holds, but suddenly everything is looking more clear.

The End.

**Author's Note: This was obviously significantly different than anything I normally write, but I just wanted to go out of my normal scope of comfort. If you are interested in reading excerpts of my published work or for the buy links to my books, head to my author page at

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  1. Claire, first of all, thank you so much for joining us for Write or Die! Welcome! :)

    And secondly, wow, you blew me away, I love this story. I love how the wife just sits there calmly eating her toast, like "bye Felicia." Love it!!

  2. Great story!!! You definitely had me hooked!!

  3. Hilarious! Loved it! Very creative.

  4. Hilarious! Loved it! Very creative.

  5. Claire, thank you for joining us for #WODW! I absolutely *loved* this story. My youngest daughter was allergic to peanuts until she was almost 4 years old. Thankfully the allergy went away, which is super-rare for peanut allergies (they usually get worse). Anyway, I know the fear of peanuts all too well! Haha. I remember having to turn back around and go home --even if I already arrived to my destination-- because I forgot the EpiPen. Never wanted to take the chance of not having it with me.

    I also love stories of betrayal and revenge. It's one of my favorite themes :)


  6. Is it wrong that I wished she had killed him?