Prologue and Acknowledgments

By Margaret Andrews

Prologue:

This is a story about a dinner party with some friends. It is about a man only partially eaten and left on the dining room table while everyone moved to the living room for cards and smoking. It's about a man who was eventually scraped into a Tupperware bowl intended as leftovers for lunch the next day with a Dr. Pepper or something.

This story will describe the man's unfortunate marriage to a woman with little tolerance to his harrowing work schedule, his grueling hours behind his desk. How in a fit of impatience, decides to run off to Spain with her friends for a few days. She simply cannot wait for him to finagle some time for a vacation.

Halfway through this story, the man will say to his wife, "I'm dying Mona and you are so cold to me. The least you could do is pick out a decent coffin and see to a proper burial."

The story will end a few months after the dinner party. The housewife will have left the man in the refrigerator for too long, staining the plastic with his mold and other poisonous bacteria. She finds the Tupperware bowl stashed in the back of the third shelf behind the milk and underneath the baking soda and throws what's left of him in the trash.

Acknowledgements:

I would like to thank the Academy, except that they haven't done shit for me, so I probably shouldn't have brought them up in the first place, actually, now that I think about it.

And my life wouldn't be the same if it weren't for my sister Alice, who begrudgingly stole my husband five years ago during a freak accident involving two anvils and a bungee cord, which I did not give to her, I only loaned it to her, the bungee cord, so I just wanted to mention THAT one more time.

I do want to thank Barney Ditz for having a more dysfunctional family than my own. I mean his Dad is a real piece of work. Get this: he's a closet homosexual, AND a Grand Poobah of the KKK. How's THAT for a Fortune 500 CEO? Thanks, Barney. It's people like you that make me realize that my life isn't so bad. And that money doesn't always buy happiness.

Someday I will thank both my editor and my agent, but not now. I'm just not ready yet. And don't wait for me, I'll let you know.