I figured you were mine when the vodka bottle ran dry.

"Here lies Narcissa Von Teare, wife, mother, sister, friend-"

"Adulteress, lier, witch, and whore."

Her husband had just left the mortal world. He had drunk himself to death, such a drunkard he was, and left her a widow. She was driven mad by grief, and at the expense of her final hope of happiness ended the adulterous relationship with Andrew, the town bartender.

He thought of this , and as he thought longer his thoughts became more sinister. He resorted for a way to see her, even if it meant forcing his dearly beloved to come to the bar every day. He made her an alchoholic. It was the only way he could avoid suspicion from the townsfolk. They could not blame him, he worked there. Neither could they blame her, they thought she was there to mourn her husband.

The day she died, was a month from her husband's own death. She died in the bar itself, at the same time, and at the same spot. Disgusting really, the death. So Andrew threw her into the slaughterhouse dump, where all the dead and rotting pigs lay, with the bones of those that had been ground to make fresh meat. With them she differed in no way he thought.

And the day after, as the butcher was cleaning the rotting mess, he found the woman. The people only felt sorrier for her. Poor dear, never of a stable mind, she must have drunk so deeply and fallen into the pit, died unable to get out. They made her funeral just as her she made her husband's, red rose wreath on the mahogany coffin and all, and laid her to rest beside him.

As for Andrew, it was the first, and last relationship he had ever had with a woman. He lived to a ripe old age. It was forty years later he was cast out of the town, a pedophile. He lived for twenty more years on the town borders, kidnapping all the young boys and girls who wandered too far from home.

Their ashes he threw into the slaughterhouse meat holding room in the dead of night, poisoning the very food the people ate. Stopping only when he tripped one day, and was ground up in the machine with all the other pigs, made into the dinner they served at the bar that night, to a woman named Narcissa.