The Case of the Missing Pillow

“Where the hell is my god-damn pillow?” The husband questioned.

“How should I know, it’s your pillow.” The wife answered.




“You know I hate it when you do that.” The wife sneered.

“It’s my pillow, so why would someone move it from where I left it this morning?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t have time for this right now-”

“Oh there’s time. And we’re gonna get to the bottom of this shit. I got it!!”

“Got what?”

“We’ll call this-”

“Oh great, here we go . . . “

“The Case of the Missing Pillow!” The husband beamed.

“For Christ’s sake, who are you, Nancy Drew?”

“We need to look for clues.”

“You do realize I have work to do, right?”

“No you don’t.” The husband stated.

Yeah, I do!”

“It can wait, this is more important.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”


“Fine, let’s find your damn pillow then.” The wife surrendered.

“OK, the last place I saw it was in our bedroom. Let’s start there.”

Upon entering the bedroom, the wife walked up to the bed, pulled back the comforter, stomped her foot and pointed at one of the pillows.

“It’s right there you dumb shit.”

“That’s not my pillow.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not, can’t be. My pillow is blue.” The husband shook his head.

“Oh my God, seriously? The pillow case was blue. This-”, she held up the pillow and shook it in the air, “is a different pillow case. I changed it.”

“What happened to the blue one?”

“I burned it.”

“What? That was my favorite pillow case, why the hell did you burn it?”

“It had blood on it.”

The husband recoiled, “Blood? What from?”

“Remember the dead whore from last night?”

“How could I forget that? The Case of the Murdered Prostitute!” The husband boomed.

“It’s going to be The Case of the Murdered Husband here in a minute if you don’t stop that shit.”

“I thought you did it nice and clean? I didn’t notice any blood anywhere?”

“I think it was probably from when I was choking her. There were all sorts of fluids coming out of her nose and mouth.” The wife shivered.

“Yeah, I guess that would do it. Babe, you know I love you but God damn, you gotta stop killing whores.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t plan on it, the bitch made some wise crack about my stretch marks. You know how sensitive I am when it comes to that.”

The husband looked down at his hand with three missing fingers, “Oh yeah, you don’t have to remind me.”

“Alright, we found your pillow, now can I get back to work?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. You want some help?”

“That would be great. Why don’t you start pulling her fingernails and I’ll start on the teeth?”

“Aww, you do love me, you know how much I hate pulling teeth.” The husband smiled.

“Yeah, I guess I do. More than anything.” The wife blushed.

The husband put his arm around the wife and pulled her close. They walked together to the bathroom, she pulled open the shower curtain and they both looked down at the dead woman. The husband looked lovingly at the wife and asked-

“Do you remember the first night we met?”



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