Tezos

Mr. and Mrs. Half

Creator

tz2HfTh5DngT8bwCbnCe537gfVD9bGUeN4qW

Description

Mr. and Mrs. Half fell prey to the existential dread in the 1920s during the Great Depression. Living in the farmlands of Janesville Wisconsin, they never saw much of their family or heard from neighbors either. Mr. Half had an odd obsession with their mailman. Every day at 11 o’clock in the morning. Mr. Half would peek out of his windows and watch the mailman pull up, get out of his mail truck, and walk towards the mailbox. He’d thought the mailman reminded him of his younger self. Being an 83 year old farmer, he never had much socialization. Even in his youthful days. His wife Mrs. Half had developed Tuberculosis the week of the mailman's last day of work. Having waved his last goodbye to the Half's, they never heard or saw of him again. Mrs. Half had trouble keeping upright as every breath she took felt like her last. Her own obsession was with her husband. She would watch her husband's every move without moving a muscle. A mental note she always kept in her head was how her husband would take notes and speak to himself every time the mailman would show up. Once the mailman would leave. He would then start to pace in front of the window like a dog waiting for his owners to come inside. On the mailman’s last day, Mr. Half seemed extra attentive and jittery. Bouncing his knees every step the mailman took. Glaring intently at the mailman's body language. He looked as if he were about to explode. Wanting nothing to do with his crazed mood, Mrs. Half took herself to the kitchen to pour herself a Gin Rickey. Listening to the swirl of her drink with her head back, she heard the front door burst open. Spilling her drink all over the counter she made it on. She ran to the front to see what it was. Before she could see what it was, her vision went blank and all control was lost. Collapsed on the ground, Mrs. Half was unconscious. Mr. Half was never much of a drinker. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a taste of alcohol. The last thing he wanted was to feel at ease with his racing mind, oddly enough. Mr. Half had eventually grown to see Mrs. Half as a burden, given her medical condition. Always moaning and complaining about her aches and pains. Mr. Half had no patience for banter at all. He was a violent man with no empathy. Every time the mailman would come, Mr. Half was taking notes on what he thought his[mailman] weaknesses were, how he saw his body language in reaction to multiple esoteric things he would wave in the window, and how he thought he knew him as a person. His wife was his first victim to these peeping paranoid perceptions parades. As soon as she got in, she knew she couldn’t leave. The mailman was the only one who empathized with her pain. Mrs. Half would try to sneak around to another room with a window in the front of the house to hold signs asking for help from him. Saying her husband was an evil man. Using the paper as a firestarter every time she started one in their living room furnace, she would be able to hide the evidence of trying to escape. The last day of the mailman’s job. Mr. Half had already had his suspicions. Thinking the mailman was quitting to leave with his wife, he slipped homemade poison in his wife’s gin knowing she wouldn’t taste a difference. He sat down and waited for the mailman to come on his last day. Having heard his wife pour herself her Gin Rickey. Mr. Half decided to get up and go say bye to the mailman. Bursting his way through the front door he charged at the mailman and put his hands around his throat. Thrown on the ground, the mailman grabbed a rock and tried bashing Mr. Half in the face. Successful for the first few attempts and mangling Mr. Half’s face. Mr. Half still had power in him to do what he needed. Knocking the mailman unconscious, Mr. Half dragged his body into his house and grabbed a tarp. He rolled the mailman into the tarp and threw him in his pig pen. Back inside he grabbed his vest pocket camera and set it up with his dead wife propped against her home as he posed like the madman he was just one foot away from her.