Tears of a clown

Mildred, her face wet with tears, started up the VW, and headed for home. The little car coughed once then settled down. Mildred glanced at the gas gauge. "Damn, Homer," she said aloud. The gauge read empty. He drives this pile of junk all the time, then leaves it up to me to fill it. Nearly In panic mode, Mildred searched for a gas station, and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted one. It wasn't one of those no brand name gas stations, that Homer insisted on going to, but she didn't care. She parked next to a pump and started to get out, when an attendant approached her door. "I'll get it, ma'am" he said, lifting her hood. She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing full well that this was really going to cost her.

To hell with it, she thought, laying her head back against the head rest. Suddenly she bolted upright. There it was, the means to kill old Homer. Piled against the window of the gas station was a pyramid of anti-freeze containers. When she paid for the gas she had them add a gallon of anti-freeze to the bill, along with a couple of bottles of some exotic fruit drinks. Tonight she would give Homer a delightful glass of exotic anti-freeze. Humming, "Tonight, tonight..." she drove home.

The End

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