That awful high-pitched buzzing sound.
She swatted at the mosquito hovering near her ear as she wiped the sweat pearling on her brow - it was a humdinger of a muggy day, overcast sky and all. She had to finish the job before the rains moved in, nobody liked mucking about on a day like this.
Snippets of the previous evening's banter flitted about in her subconscious as she slammed the heavy shovel into the soft earth over and over again, focused on her mission:
"You fucking idiot - can't you do anything right? Three times I've asked you today and you still forgot! What's wrong with you?!"
There's nothing wrong with me, she thought, whistling tunelessly as she swatted more bugs from her face. I'll show you wrong. I'll show you all.
Fat droplets of rain splattered on her dirty t-shirt, dampening the fabric until it clung to her pendulous breasts. She worked on, muttering and shoveling, never noticing how dark it had gotten until she climbed out of the deep muddy hole to catch her breath.
Merry Christmas! Happy Birthday! Amen! she chuckled to herself, quintessential portrait of a mad woman.
Was is wrong to murder your asshole of an ingrate ex-boyfriend who refused to move out of your house, who stalked and threatened you and made your life a living hell, who forced you to clean his shitty underwear and endure his endless belching and farting while he stole your welfare checks and screwed your sister behind your back?
But who was going to find out?
A booming voice snapped her out of her reverie - "Marge! Where the fuck are you? Get your goddamn ass in the house, there's nothing to eat! I'm starving here!"
She eyed her handiwork, smiled and leaned the shovel against the back porch. She would be back in a few hours, oh yes she would.