Revenge, Sweet as Cherry Pie by, Alexa H.

Partner story, to be read with Dinner's Ready.

It’s been fifty years today. It has fifty years since that she-devil killed him. Way back in 1955, before the kids were running around with their crimped hair, and talking about something called ‘myspace’, whatever that is, I used to be young and hip. It was a simpler time then, other than the fact that Betty murdered her husband just because he cheated on her. It's not my fault he thought I was neat. I mean, I get why he cheated. She was just a drab old housewife. Not only did she kill him, she tried to kill me! That witch thought she could kill me with a poisoned pie. Not only did it not work, but, the pie was mediocre. Mine has always been better.

I wonder where she is now. Most likely in a nursing home, unlike me, because, well, let's just say not everyone looks like I do at this age. I now look in the mirror and back at me stares a seventy five year old woman. Scratch that, I see an extraordinary looking lady, at seventy years young.

“You still got it Nancy!” I say to myself, taking out my curlers. “Don't listen to those kids with their chunky highlights and sparkly sweat suits, you can still rock an apron and be cool. Betty is not nearly as marvelous as you. She wasn’t back then in the fifties, and she isn’t now.”

I stop as I recognize that I am talking to myself. Betty has made me crazy ever since she got away with Freddie's murder. Now I realize that I will never find peace until I find her, until I get her. I will die an old woman, so far from my glory days; mad and resentful towards that murderer. Now I have decided. I pursue towards the library to get one of them teenagers to help me on a “computer”, as they call it. It is time to find Betty.

“This computer thing is just nifty!” I say, as the child I enlisted to help me gives a labored nod, her sparkling pink barrette shining in her hair. “Thanks kiddo!” I call, as she walks away, pulling out one of those new fangled cellular “flip phones” out of the pocket of her bedazzled low rise jeans.

“Kids these days” I mumble and continue my search. As I scroll down the page for shady oaks home for retired folks, I reach the resident profiles, and find what I’m looking for:

Betty Brown: Seventy five. Likes cleaning and chatting with her gal pals.

What a drab old lady she seems to be. I become embittered as I observe the picture of her sitting around a table with eight bingo cards, average, I can do 10 at a time. I observe the picture, I've found her, finally I can get my revenge.

Racing back to my home, as fast as my wobbly legs can take me, people try to help me across the street, but I shove them away. All I can think of is getting my revenge.

I make it back to my home and form a plan. First, I will lure Betty into my trap by giving her a flyer for a fake bingo game (she will definitely show up for that.) Then, I will finally catch that frizzy haired, wrinkly aproned, smudged lipstick wearing, woman! I pull out a sheet of paper and scribble out the invitation. This is it. This is when I finally kill Betty Brown.

I arrive at the building the next day, I stand waiting for Betty, steaming with anger and nerves. I begin to hear footsteps coming into the building. “Well golly! If it isn't Nancy Smith! It has been a mighty long time hasn't it!” A voice exclaims. I look up, hiding my rage with a toothy, red lipped smile as she limps over towards me, I can see her hesitating as she furrows her brow in confusion, though she hides it with a soft smile. “My oh my Betty, is that really you?”

“Well yes it is me! Gosh, well I have not seen you in-”

“Fifty years” I cut her off and she gives me a look.

“Yes fifty years ago, it seems so long of a time. Before all the kids were just chattering about that Britney gal and her denim outfits. Ahh, that was a simpler time.” She blabbers but I can only stare. It’s like she thinks she isn't guilty of murder. She looks the same as before, with that same fake, innocent smile plastered on her face. She probably still spends all her time cooking and cleaning for her new husband, at least, until she kills him.

“So I assume you got the invitation for the bingo game as well. I guess the venue changed and we didn't get the memo,” Betty continues, acting casual about everything. “Well I guess I better just go back to the nursing home, maybe a new flyer was delivered there!” She begins to turn away. Now is my chance! I size her from behind.

“Oh my Nancy, you never did get over him did you?” She blurts out. I pause, dumbfounded as she speaks so calmly. “He was my husband you know, not yours.” I stop and process what is going on, and I soon realize that there is a weapon pressed up against my head.

“You knew!” I say.

“Well, of course dear! I could recognize that handwriting anywhere. You didn't expect me to forget about that letter you left Freddie did you?”. I pause awaiting my doom as I stand here in the middle of a failed plan. I feel something, the pressure is gone, I am sure I am dead, but no. I turn my head and Betty stands there, a tear in her eye. “Nancy, I am so sorry dear I-I can't do it”

“What?” I gape.

“It is not your fault, Nancy, I never should have tried to kill you, and I thought getting rid of you once and for all would make me feel better but”

“It’s... it’s alright” I stutter, stunned by how easily she has forgiven me.

“I am so sorry, I know how it must have upset you when Freddie-” She trails off as her weapon falls to the floor.

“Its okay, why don't we go bake something together,” I say hobbling towards the doors of the building, with Betty a bit ahead of my step. I then stop, without her noticing. I am still enraged towards her, even if she did apologize. She stops, and turns towards me, her eyes widen and her mouth opens.

“Oh and by the way Betty, my cherry pie will always be the best in town” I say as I the sound of a gunshot rings out.