UnDomestic

by Robert Gryfft

"Sarah, I'm home!"
She buried the machete deep in his neck, delighting in the spurting spray of his severed artery.
"Well, that's good," he said, putting the groceries in the refrigerator. "Kids asleep yet?"
She slid the machete into his abdomen.
"Good, good," he said distractedly, and sat down to take off his socks.