Sorry Jack

The letter was short and to the point. Luckily I got there before the cunt had a chance to leave with my money. I remember opening the door and seeing my wife’s luggage. She was carrying a bag with both hands and immediately dropped it when I came walking in. It made a thump as it hit the wooden floor.

“What the fuck are you doing”? I asked

“Jesus”, “Jack”, “you scared the shit out of me”. She said

The house looked more empty than usual. Stuff was missing. I’d recommend checking the black Mercedes Benz I bought for her, that’s in my name.

“What’s in the bag”? I asked her

She didn’t answer, so I walked into her personal space.

“Why don’t you open it”? “I’m telling you”, “I’m dying to know what’s in that fucking bag”. I told her

“Fine”, she responded

She unzipped the bag and stacks of cash could be seen from within. She reached her hand inside and pulled out a pistol and shot me in the chest with my own gun.

It hurt, but in the heat of the moment I was able to grab the whore down with me. I don’t know what happened to the gun, but I managed to grab her face and bash her head into the wooden floor until I couldn’t hear her breath anymore.

“And than what happened”? The detective asked

I was blessed enough to have my phone on me, so I made the 911 call. They said dispatch was on there way. I didn’t know if I was going to make it or what. While waiting in shock I saw a note on the floor that read

Sorry Jack

“That’s not what it said when we got to the scene”. The detective responded

“Well let me finish, there’s more to it”. I told him

Thinking it could be my last move, I wanted to be witty and beat this bitch. I grabbed the letter and used my index finger like a paintbrush and made sure It was dipped in her blood. I crossed out the word Jack and next to it wrote her new name in blood. I positioned the letter over her gory face which stuck like glue, which read


Her name wasn’t worth capitalizing.