Chocolate Cake And Snapped Don't Mix

I didn't see things coming to this. I had been teetering on edge for so long now. It just came out of nowhere, well, not nowhere. It has been building within me for decades, and I finally have just had all I can take.

He came home drunk again, and not just your ordinary stumble through the door and pass out where he falls drunk. He came home evil drunk. If you are married or involved with an alcoholic, you learn how to gauge their levels of drunkenness pretty quick.

It can go from zero to sixty in a second. One moment they are thrilled to see you, telling you how much they love you, how beautiful you are, and how they could never live without you.

Then it happens, a strange glare comes across their eyes. Suddenly the person you believed you loved most in the world is gone. Instead, he becomes a hateful, evil being, who's mission in life is to hurt you and make you feel as miserable as they do.

Tonight was bad, one of the worst. I did my best to disengage from him. I avoided conversation, changed rooms, pretended to sleep but yet he kept coming at me.

His voice could be heard all over the house, growing louder and louder with each breath. Thankfully the kids were staying with friends tonight. It is so stressful shielding them from his cruel words.

It was 4:30 am, he rambled on about how hard he works, how much pressure he is under. "It must be nice to sit at home all day and do nothing while I bust my ass to take care of you." he screams.

I sit looking at the floor. Not making eye contact but so badly wanting to stand up and scream, "What are you talking about?" You barely work; I work a full-time job, take care of the children, do everything around here while you sit and drink."

He moved on to the next subject; the house is never clean enough to suit him, dinner is never made. He deserves to be taken care of by his woman, but then again, "you are a pitiful excuse for a woman."

My anger is building up inside of me. To attempt to smooth over the fight, I keep agreeing with him.

Telling him how right he is about everything, how I will try harder to please him. His mood appears to soften. Inside I'm fuming, angry at him for letting alcohol take over his life and ruin mine.

Mad at myself for setting back all of these years and taking his abuse. I want out so badly, and I'm willing to do most anything to make it happen.

I glance over on the kitchen counter. There it is. The chocolate cake I made him for his birthday yesterday.

The cake, he paid no attention to or thanked me for making. The carving knife lies beside the cake stand. A gruesome thought quickly runs through my mind. "No, I tell myself" I knew I could not do it.

The rat poison under the sink? "Stop!" My inner voice is screaming. He appears in the kitchen doorway; the look in his eyes is horrifying. "Get me a piece of that shitty-looking cake, he says. I look sadly at him and nod.

"Now, you stupid bitch, he yells. I move to the cabinet to get a plate; he stumbles into the dining room to sit down. Before I even knew it, I had retrieved the poison from under the sink. I sprinkled it all over a huge slab of cake, adding giant heaping spoonfuls of cool whip.

I brought him the plate, and he grumbled, "about time."

Your right, I replied "it is about time. "Here is your cake; make sure to eat every bite."

He began wolfing down the cake, smearing cool whip and frosting across his face. Finally, he washed it down with a giant swig of Jack Daniels. He stands up to tell me once again how worthless I am and falls to the ground.

I smile softly to myself as my alarm clock goes off. Then I jolt with a start. I was remembering the nightmare I just experienced. I get out of bed and look to the ground at my feet. There it sits, a plate with a piece of chocolate cake, covered in cool whip.

I glance around the room, beginning to shake, thinking, no, no, it can't be. Then, finally, the bathroom door opens, and out comes my husband, fresh from the shower. He kisses me sweetly, and says "sorry, I got home from work late." I didn't want to wake you; you were passed out on the bed with a piece of chocolate cake and had been binge-watching "Snapped."

Finally, it all comes back to me; what the hell, I think. One, my husband is not a drunk or abusive. Two, we do not have children.

I must have transported myself into the TV show while dreaming.

I guess I will just file that wild nightmare under crazy things I have done in my dreams. Ok, no more cake and Snapped for me.