In a tranquil seaside village where the headlines announce chili-cookoff winners instead of “Bloody Scene At (fill in the blanks),” last night’s violent ravaging of a popular icon and the grizzly photos that recorded the incident remain hidden from the public eye. But in the interest of verifying the demise of the icon, I am releasing the vile photos.

The surprise slaying occurred after my early evening Facebook post, “I have to create dinner. I am uninspired.”  It was a day of malady.  I visited worry world and disappointment land. I dealt with this like any post-menopausal woman—I binged on a handful of leftover Easter pastel Reese pieces.  That bounced me into deep lethargy.  Cook your own damn dinner.  Get me a big fat hamburger and a beer.

Spouse noticed the lack of spring in my step and my darkly rimmed eyes.  “You know there’s a big low pressure ridge coming in.  That’s what’s wrong with you.” Ten minutes later the weather report confirmed his analysis.  I tend to slip down a rabbit hole when a low pressure system nears.

“Great,” I moaned. “Go get us evil food.”

Spouse had been on the road most of the day. His grimace said, “You may as well point me to a noose.”  So I took that as a no. 

We resolved dinner with some Trader Joe’s organic chicken sausage over a bowl of fresh greens soused with red wine vinaigrette.

“What about oranges and Cool Whip for dessert?” I suggested in an effort to compensate for my earlier binge.

But an emboldened terrorist hid in plain sight.  Plus oranges and Cool Whip did not interest spouse.  He knew only one thing would pull me out of my slump.

He surgically cruised near the subversive’s colorful compound. With a single swipe of the hand spouse took control of the thug, held it into the air and asked, “How ‘bout this instead?”

I conferred with my high command court (conscience) and decided that the time was now. “Yes, let’s do it!” I exclaimed.

It was a vicious and violent attack without recourse (except to the waistline).  This morning the remains revealed the annihilation of a beloved icon.  The proof is in the photos.