Drinking whiskey from jam jars and eating cereal from butter bowls

Uwell and Jasmine Nevelle lived in a small one bedroom house in Middletown, OH. Uwell was a retired freight-truck driver living out the rest of his days in quiet solitude.
Jasmine never worked. When they married Uwell wouldn't allow it. In 1997 Uwell was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and arthritis.
Not only was he forbidden his favorites foods, he couldn't even grasp the utensils to eat the health food he was to ingest. In 2001 Jasmine started suffering from a mild form of dementia.
She paced about her house forgetting where she was most of the time while Uwell sat in his reclining chair from sunrise to sunset, watching Bonanza in the mornings and Sanford and Son at night.
Jasmine found herself forgetting recipes every day,
so Hospice brought theire meals. Shoes in the refridgerator. Clothes in the cupboards. The two refused to be stuck in a nursing home and their children wouldn't allow it anyways.
Uwell and Jasmine hadn't had sex in 23 years.
Sometimes in the mornings Jasmine would wake up Uwell to see his hand resting softly across his genitals, which were of no use to him anymore.

One morning after Murder She Wrote, Uwell stepped into the bathroom to see Jasmine at the mirror, chopping her hair off with scissors.
"Mom, what're you doin'?"
"I...had a hair appointment, and I'm late....I've done this before..."
"Honey, stop it, you're taking it all off!"
Globs of hair plugged the sink and nestled on the tiling and toilet seat. There were traces of blood on the counters.
"Sweetheart, stop!"
Uwell wrestled the scissors out of her hands and the two fell to the floor.
They both started crying. While on the bathroom floor they agreed on what needed to be done.

Uwell and Jasmine sat on the end of the bed. Uwell hadn't used his Smith and Wesson since he lived on 25 acres of green land out in Cookeville, TN
where he killed coyotes that wandered into his backyard. He would do it real quick like, he decided. Without warning her. A shot in her temple,
followed immediately by a shot in his. He leaned over to her and kissed her on the cheek.
"I love you, sweetheart."
She looked at him and smiled.
"I'm sorry, can I help you?"
He burst into tears and fired a round into Jasmine's skull. She collapsed on the floor and died instantly, eyes open.
Uwell stood up and placed the barrell firmly between both of his eyes. The pistol slipped out of his hands and under the bed.
Startled, he sluggishly and painfully fell to his knees to retrieve the pistol from underneath the bed, but his arms wouldn't reach.
He streteched and stretched and stretched and his wrists locked up. He screamed and hollered and couldn't reach the pistol.
Jasmine's head blood slowly crawled towards his body.
As his fingertips rested on the handle, the bedroom door was burst open and several officers pulled him to his knees.
"NO! No, you cock suckers! I have to do it! It's under the goddamn bed! She's waiting for me!!"
"Sir, calm down, stop this."
"You motherfuckers!! Let go of me, goddamnit! I have to GO! It's under the fucking bed, just let me grab it! She's waiting!!"
Uwell was placed in the back of a squad car and taken to the station.
Jasmine's body laid and bled on the floor until the ambulance showed up.
All of the neighbors had an opinion despite seeing nothing.

Thomas and Lindsey Nevelle arrived home that night from dinner to find three messages on their answering machine:
"We're calling regards to your bond. Service payments was recieved on February 13th. Please call for schedule of next -"
Next message.
"This is Gil. The 348's are in. Call me and we'll get our route for the next couple of weeks and -"
Next message.
"Thomas, this is mom and dad. We're both very sick. We want you to know that we love you very much,
and we're not going to be a burden to anyone anymore. Me and your dad are going to go and be with God.
We love you, sweetie."

 

i'm crying. i love this thing.

 

Thank you.