One day, not so long ago, Agnes Warrington was standing at the kitchen sink, peeling carrots peacefully, when she heard her husband grunting and swearing from behind her.

“Fucking oranges.”

Agnes looked over her shoulder to see Larry fumbling with an orange. It was already looking less like an piece of fruit than a mass of pulp. Larry threw the fruit at the cupboard where they kept their drinking glasses.

“i swear to god, Agnes, if you bring another orange in this house again, I’m going to kill you.”

“Larry, I want a divorce,” replied Agnes as she turned around to face Larry, “I know you’re fucking the paper boy.”

Agnes stormed out of the house, leaving behind several unfinished oil paintings which she intended to sell. It took a moment for Larry to realize what had just happened. he ran to the door just in time to see her peeling out of the driveway in his 1954 Cadillac. He didn’t even bother to run after her. Larry closed the door, walked back into the kitchen, picked up the phone and called the paper boy.

“You can come over now, she’s gone.”

Larry hung up the phone and lit a cigarette. Tonight wasn’t going to be so bad after all.