When the man returned from his business-trip over-seas he eye-balled the real deal
A golden gun – nestled and ready, lukewarm by all accounts yet more than anything else in this world right about now prepared to amount to glorious degrees of something
His battle-hardened wife sitting by the dinner-table, problematic at the best of times
You guessed it, chomping down on her umpteenth meal of the day, bottle of red wine Kiljoy forever nearby
Causing a crazy kind of fire inside of his hate-filled belly
An utter need to sound her the whole way out
When one specially kept round of bullets suddenly gets to make everything alright

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