A dark caption.

He dropped his briefcase as he walked into the kitchen. It was odd, he had noticed when he came into his house. No sounds from the kitchen. No smells of cooking. Just a click-click of his wife's heels on the tile floor of the kitchen.

Now that he was standing there, his mouth open in shock, he understood why he hadn't heard or smelled the telltale signs of his dinner being made. Standing in the kitchen was a familiar shape. He recognize her pretty form, and he'd especially recognize that dress, one that the more conservative ladies frowned upon but he loved. She looked amazing in that dress, especially with her favorite black heels and stockings.

The thing was, turning to face him, her hands on the table, was not her at all, at least not her head! Below those horrible, ugly stitches was her pretty body and above them was the head of an old man, who just looked at him and smiled!

He felt faint. He put his hand against the doorframe to steady himself, his gaze still focused on this person in front of him, smiling that dark, knowing smile. As he steadied himself he tried to speak, but his voice seemed hoarse and little came out.

"I see your not taking this well." The man said with a laugh. "Understandable. I wouldn't be either, seeing a man's head where my wife's head should be. Knowing he has her pretty, pretty body all for himself now. What I do with it is my own business, but I will tell you this, while I can still do all the things to your that your wife did, I can tell you that I won't be making dinner tonight!"