Well, as long as I have SOMETHING to work with. He can
just think of anything from the misty alleyways of his mind, but
I need something to start from. I've written short stories, but
only after he fired up my imagination. This one is actually called
"Squeaky Hammer Death". Yes, it's meant to be thoroughly
obsurd. With a title change, it could become very serious, I
just haven't thought of anything to add to it.
... She finally realized he was quite a problem, a problem that wasn't
going away. Why did she marry him anyway? Ah, yes, the money...
of course. The poor boy, he had no idea what she had in store for him.
She was leering at him intently. His misguided response was a lazy, vacant
smile. Oh, how she hated... no loathed THAT smile. She watched him like
a hawk as he walked up the stairs to the bedroom. Now was her chance.
Quietly, stealthily she ascended the stairs after him. Peering in, she saw his
back turned to her..... perfect. He'd never see her coming. Slowly she
crept up behind him. He turned, unexpectedly, in time to see her lunge at
him. She obviously caught him off guard, for he fell to the bed with no
resistence. Raising the hammer she had bought just for him, she rapped him upside his head as hard as she possibly could. He gave one bloodcurdling
shriek, then fell into eternal silence. The new, filthy rich widow's problem
had been solved, or should I say extinguished.