He had met her on a dating site and didn’t believe the things simps said about her in a chatroom. They said she was bad news and to stay away from her. One wrote run away from her. Another wrote, if you want to go on living, do not get involved with this dangerous witch of a woman.
He thought those were the whinings of beta men she rejected. And as beautiful as she was, few men would be worthy of her. He felt flattered and honored to know he was one of those men she had deemed worthy.
The first date was wonderful! So many things in common, so much fun. She was highly intelligent and witty. He felt she had the makings of a soulmate. Date number two, even better. He felt like she was growing on him and he was beginning to fall in love with her. For the third date, she invited him for dinner at her cottage secluded in a forest. When he arrived at her cottage that evening, it was far from other houses. He worried about her safety, being a woman living alone in such an isolated location.
When he knocked at her door, she opened it, smiled a big smile, and greeted him dressed in black, which reminded him of the simp in the chat room who wrote she was “a dangerous witch of a woman.” She gave him a kiss, said she was glad to see him, and invited him in. She said she had prepared a pasta dinner for him with wine to drink and hoped he liked her cooking. The dinner was delicious he said after he sated himself and got a little tipsy on the wine.
After dinner, she took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom. When she undressed, he glimpsed a black widow spider tattooed on her chest. Noticing him looking at her tattoo, she laughed and said, “I know it’s weird, but I just like those spiders.”
Having sex on his mind, he didn’t respond to her strange liking of those horrible spiders. He embraced her and began making love to her. But when they consummated, he felt weak and passed out. As he lay on her bed unconscious, she placed a tarp under his body. She retreated to her kitchen and took an electric carving knife out of a cabinet drawer. Back in the bedroom, she turned it on and sliced his head off with it, just like a black widow spider kills the male black widow spider after copulating with it.
She wrapped his body and his head in the tarp, dragged it out to her garden, and buried it alongside the three other men buried there. Pleased with herself, she smiled, skipped back into her cottage, and answered the email of her next doomed suitor.
Bob Boyd