Originally posted as comments to a Facebook status that I thought was quite clever but left others scratching their heads.  I’m rather proud of this little fiction snippet, considering it took less than 20 minutes for me to knock it out.

I decided to give it a home here rather than let it get buried under all the other crap I have on my profile page.  Enjoy.

Perhaps I can explain:

It was a rainy day at the funeral, as all funeral days should be. The procession had gone from the chapel to the cemetery and laid the man in the ground.

His mousy wife, shrunk even smaller from the loss of the only man she had ever loved, waved off all offers for a ride home and trudged off on her own. I followed her, letting the pounding rain mask the sound of my footsteps so that she would not notice me.

About a mile away, she turned into an alley. When she stopped at its dead end, I ducked behind a dumpster and peered around the side to see what she was going to do next.

Thinking she was all alone, she ran her hand down along the inside of her leg and then pulled it up inside the hem of her black dress. When her fingers hit home, she let out a moan that sounded a little like a tea kettle coming to a boil. As she climaxed, she threw back her head and let out a banshee-like wail that chilled my blood.

After it was over, she pulled her hand away and brought the nectar of her labors to the quivering lips that now silently mouthed the name of her dead husband.

It was hot.