Terrance was scrunched down in the front seat of his dark green 1985 Honda across the street from the house of interest. He was reading As You Like It with a pen flashlight. It was thirty minutes after dusk and the pink clouds that had moved low in the horizon had almost disappeared. Darkness pierced with muted specks had started sprinkling the sky like tiny bright holes in a black satin cloth. Shifting his weight, the skinny robber glanced at his watch. He looked up as he heard strident voices.

"Edward, why in the hell don’t you just shut your stupid mouth?"

"Because, Marsha, you spend too much damn time on your stupid arrogant face and we are always late." Edward yelled as he got in the car, not opening her door.

She frowned and opened her own door, then slammed it shut. "A gentleman would have opened a door for a lady," she fumed.

"Well if I saw a lady, I would do that, but all I see is a damn witch!" he fumed back.

Terrance smiled, "ah glorious marital bless, it seems to blossom when sprinkled with wealth!"

The brand new red Maserati burned rubber away from the curb, spewing angry gravel at the vacuous atmosphere, and sped towards the opera house. A Shakespeare drama, From Measure to Measure, was playing tonight. He laughed as he recalled some lines, "Take, O! take those lips away that so sweetly were forsworn, and those eyes, the break of day, lights that do mislead the morn; but my kisses bring again, bring again, seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain." Shaking his head, he watched the car speed away with two people who loathed each other held captive inside.

"I wonder why the wealthy can’t get their crap together, they have it made, if only they would stop for one damn minute and assess their situation! The wife is a knockout, tall, long blond hair and a body that would stop traffic," he said out loud, as he crawled out of his car.

The sky now ebony with dark ominous clouds churned across the sky and covered the stars. The two black antique iron streetlights on the block were out, courtesy of Terrance. Walking quickly across the street, he disappeared into a boring professionally landscaped backyard. They didn’t have a dog; Mrs. Splendid hated dogs and instead she had a fat spoiled white Persian cat, which Edward loathed. Terrance looked around and taking out his snips, did a job on the amateurish electrical security system. He put on his soft suede gloves and using pics opened the back door and walked into the plush modern kitchen. 

After another forty minutes and hearing the front door being unlocked, he moved to the center of the living room with the sack of loot at his feet.

Marsha Splendid walked into the living room, saw Terrance, and screamed, he screamed back. "Who in the hell are you, and what are you doing?"

"Uh, er, I came to inspect the telephone, your husband called and said he was having problems with it." Terrance said standing with the huge sack next to him on the plush white carpet.

Marsha stared at him, then the sack and said, "Yeah right! We have cell phones, were you going to work on it in his pocket?"

"Uh oh, that is a problem isn’t it?" He said grimacing.

Marsha reaching into her small pearl and diamond studded bag, and brought out a tiny Rossi .38-caliber short-barreled pistol. She pointed it at Terrance’s head.

"Oh jeez Lady please don’t, I’m afraid of guns," he whispered moving jerkily and almost falling over the bag. He slumped down on the carpet with his hands over his head with his eyes shut. "Please don’t shoot me lady, I am only thirty five years old, I have a lot of years to live. I even have a puppy at home!" He whispered.

"You are nothing but a ridiculous, skinny, worthless rat-faced crook, why shouldn’t I shoot you?" She yelled.

"I am not a real bad person, I just steal, I never hurt anyone. I hate violence!" He sniveled. "I’m not like your husband."

Marsha approached Terrance. He cringed and put his hands over his head.

"What do you know of my husband you little sewer rat?"

"I have been casing your place for weeks now, I know he is a very wealthy attorney, and he hits you sometimes, I always like to know all about my clients."

"Clients? What are you some sort of nut? How can you call us clients?"

"Jeez Ma’am, I’m sorry I just didn’t know what else to call you."

Marsha sat down in an overstuffed chair moving her foot up and down, thinking. The pistol was still aimed at Terrance. His eyes were wide and he appeared to be about ready to faint. "Can I sit in a chair too? I am getting all cramped sitting on the floor."

Squinting her eyes, she nodded and jerked the pistol towards a soft leather chair. He got up from the floor, sat in the chair and sighed. "This is a real comfortable chair ma’am."

"It should be, it cost my stupid husband four thousand dollars, can you believe that a chair could cost four thousand dollars! By the way you slimy crook, what is your name?"

"Terrance ma’am!"

"Terrance what?"

He said softly, "uh, Terrance Milquetoast."

"Milk toast!" She laughed, "what the hell type of name is that?"

"I think it is French, but I don’t really know."

"Well skinny, rat-face, Terrance Milk toast, what shall we do with you? Shall we shoot you, call the police?" She asked in the royal third person.

"Ma’am, I sure don’t want to be shot, and I certainly don’t want to get arrested, isn’t there something else that I can do? You know, I could leave all the loot here in the sack and just go away and promise never to come back again!"

Shaking her head, she laughed at his pathetic response. She then gazed at him with a serious gaze. "I have an idea you sleazy little weasel, I will not shoot you or call the police if you do me an itsy bitsy favor. I want you to shoot my lousy husband when he comes in the house." She smiled.

Terrance almost fell out of his chair. Marsha could sense the sweat starting to roll down his spine. "Shoot your husband? My God, I could never shoot anyone ma’am, I hate guns and loud noises and blood, oh God I really hate blood."

"Well I guess I’ll just have to shoot you then." She stated as she aimed the gun at his head again.

"Oh God no, oh please ma’am don’t kill me."

"Well then you will have to shoot my boring husband!"

Terrance put his head in his hands and trembled. "I don’t know if I can ma’am, I’ve never shot anyone, golly."

Marsha pursed her lips, shook her head disgustedly and crinkling her brow said, "good God Terrance what type of a slug are you anyway. You are milk toast, a sniveling piece of soggy milk toast. You are as pathetic as my boorish husband. I guess you will just have to die!" She stated as she aimed the gun at his head again.

He put his hands over his ears again, looked up teary eyed and said, "okay ma’am, I’ll do it, I’ll do it please don’t shoot me!"

"Good, do I have to show you how to shoot the gun?"

"Yes ma’am, I have never used a gun before." He sniveled.

Marsha handing him the small pistol told him her husband would be coming back from the liquor store in a few minutes and he should wait for him behind the door in the entry hall. "I want you to shoot him in the head. When you finish him off, you can also take the loot that you have collected."

"Thank you ma’am, if you could show me how to use this thing that would be helpful," Terrance said as he took the gun by the barrel with two trembling fingers.

"Good God Terrance, you don’t pick a gun up by the barrel, jeez, you pick it up by the handle." Marsha explained as she showed him how to handle it. She then proceeded to show him how to aim and shoot it.

Just as he put the gun in his shaking hand, Terrance’s cell phone rang. "Yes sir, I’m almost through, yes sir I found the $50,000 in your desk, yes sir it went just as you predicted, yes bye."

Marsha looked at Terrance with a quizzical look on her face and her brow wrinkled, "who was that?"

"Just your husband Edward ma’am," Terrance stated as he casually emptied the pistol of the blanks the husband had put in the gun, and professionally put in three real bullets. Marsha watched in terror as he smiled and calmly aimed and fired the pistol at her head. Three bullets went into Marsha’s forehead, a millimeter apart, they wiped away the question that was in her eyes.

Picking up the sack, Terrance picked up the blanks then casually stepped over Marsha’s body and left. "Well, all’s well that ends well," he said laughing to himself. He heard the sirens in the distance, figuring the neighbor, a very comely young blond that lived across the street, probably the next Mrs. Splendid, had called the police.

A wintry gusty wind was blowing as Terrance drove quickly away. He picked up the playbill that he had tossed in his sack. He read that the next Shakespearian play at the opera house was As You Like It he especially liked that one, and planned to attend the play the following evening. He loved playacting and was an amateur actor himself. Recalling some lines from the play that seemed to fit the present situation, he smiled as he emoted and recited the lines out loud.

"Blow, blow thou winter wind!
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
They tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! Sing heigh ho! Unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving folly"
Then heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly."