by William Morgan
NotJudy opened the apartment door and walked inside.
Husband Gerry stood in the hall, axe in hand.
“You’re not my Judy.”
“What? Oh, Gerry, that’s preposterous! Put that thing away-”
Gerry raised the axe.
“You’re not HER!”
” Of course I am, honey. Now please, put that-”
NotJudy stared at the axe embedded in her chest.. She fell to the floor.
Gerry wrenched the axe from her chest, lifted it high, slammed it down, again, and again, sobbing.
He picked up the phone.
“911,what’s your emergency?”
“My wife!Oh,God,my wife!”
“Your wife is hurt?”