Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.

Peter was a simple man. Owned his own pumpkin farm, did pretty well for himself. He fell in love with a girl, she was pretty, very pretty you see. She was like an angel. But An Angel she was Not. They lived together and married. They never had any children. But she was always acting strange, never where she said she’d be. But he trusted her like a good husband should right? Well one day Peter was coming home early, he was feeling a little depressed at the gray, cloudy whether so he picked up an hour early. He walked into the house, and heard his wife scream, rushing up the stairs, pulling his double barrel from the hall closet he burst into the room. What did he find? Well I think her nude explanations were about as good as his, and in the end, it didn’t save him from being treated like a Deer.

She however. Her crime was that much worse, She was Married! To Him! And she had the nerve. She had him….. she had everybody… A….. that’s her letter, as he cut it into her forehead with his hunting knife. He was delirious….. it was funny, it really was, otherwise why wouldn’t he be able to stop laughing? Well anyway. She…. She was something else. She stole what he had given her. The home they shared… the food he put on the table. The jewelry he got her whenever he could. She wanted more. Greedy Bitch. She took and took and took, and did it with a lying smile. Well we’ll see about this one.

Who knew there’d be so much blood? It didn’t matter now, her screaming was stopped. He looked at the tongue he held in his hand and down at her gagged and bleeding. She was still pretty. Even without her legs…. But those hands…. They hands that betrayed him, she’ll never touch another but him. And those lips, who spoke lies to his face, they’re lovely, but they go too. And that body that tempted other men with her glances and waves. That too has gotta go.

He looked at his pumpkin patch and patted a nice big one stained with red. He looked upon it fondly.

“Hiya, Pam… enjoying the patch? You never wanted to see it before… don’t worry…. Marsha and Jean should welcome you right at home.” he patted two other large stained pumpkins and wandered back up to his house, whistling a tune. She was all his now. And always would be.

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A/N: and so begins my little string of nursery rymes. if you have one you want me to do. drop me a line. until then, remember kids. Fidelity is important.