The Obituary

Keep your expectations low and we should be fine. The bold typeface read across the article that currently held my attention. I scrolled down a bit and more confusion played in my mind.

"What? That can't be right," I rubbed my eyes and looked at the computer screen again. There I was, smiling with my wife in a picture. The accompanying text suggested I was dead. No, suggested wasn't the right word. It was an obituary saying I had died in a freak accident. For a second, I wondered if perhaps I really was dead and this was how everyone found out they had passed on. By doing a Google search for themselves to see if there was any news "Honey, come here. I need you to see something."
Melissa came into the living room, dish towel over her shoulder. After 10 years of marriage, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Well, she was the only one who said yes when I asked her out. And after the wedding we agreed divorce was not an option. We would tough it out until the other died. Apparently, she won that contest. "What is it? I was pretending to be on the beach with Channing Tatum and he was about to show me his Magic Mike."

"I'm dead," The smile on her face was a bit too big for my taste. "Can you pretend to be upset by this? Someone said I was dead in Florida. And now everyone is going to assume I was in Florida. Oh and I'm dead."

"Death finally did us part. I mean I know I always said you looked like a corpse but now it's true," Melissa twirled around the living room. Her night gown flowed back to her knees. "Finally, the insurance money will come in and I can quit my job. Maybe sell the house and go on a long overdue vacation. My ship has come in!"

"You do realize I'm not dead, right? You're talking to me right now."

With a sigh, Melissa stopped dancing, "Just like you to get me almost there and then take away my happiness."

"I'm sorry I'm still breathing."

"Me too. It's what I've always longed to hear from you," She walked over to me and kissed my cheek. Her eyes scanned the obituary and looked at the picture. "That was just taken a few days ago. I just put it up on my Facebook. Why would someone use it to say you're dead?"

"If I knew... You'd be a rich woman."

"Just call the newspaper and tell them you're not dead," She tilted her head and seemed to be in thought for a second. "At least the electricity and internet are in my name. It would be horrible to lose those. What would I do without my Candy Crush?"

"Or your husband?" Why did she keep forgetting I was dead, at least according to the newspaper?

After she went back into the kitchen, I pulled up my email. There was one from one of my frat buddies. I opened it and scanned the message, nothing but reminiscing about old times. The next email I opened asked if I was ready to die. Seemed ominous and I thought it could provide a clue as to what was happening. It certainly did. The email contained the same obituary and picture form the website I had been browsing. But I hadn't paid to fake my own death. We barely had enough money to pay for a funeral if one of us actually died.

Melissa came back into the room and looked over my shoulder at the email, "If you paid to fake your death, why couldn't I get the dress I had my eye on. That was only $15 and faking your death cost much more."

"I didn't do this. Why are you more concerned with the money than the fact someone wants me dead?"

"There's no real threat here. Just someone playing a practical joke," Her eyes scanned the email once more. "Plus, if you were dead, the cops would look at me. They always look at the wife. Unfortunately, unlike some of the other women, I don't have a 20-year-old lover to help me get rid of the body."

"Why are you not taking this seriously? Someone out there wants me dead. So much so they already have it out there that I'm dead."

Melissa suppressed, barely, a giggle. Then she pointed to the monitor, "The website is called 'Fake News' and says nothing on it is true. Nobody wants you dead, they just want you to pay to be a part of the joke. How did you not see that?"

"I thought it was a French thing, you know Fa-kay News or something. It never dawned on me it was a satire site."

"It's a good thing you married me, because if I wasn't here to take care of you..." Her voice trailed off. "Well, I am going to retire to the bedroom for a night of true crime shows and more fantasies."

"I could join you. You know if you wanted," She smiled at me and set off to the room upstairs. "I'll show you my Magic Mike!"

"I've seen it and it disappoints. But you're more than welcome to join me if you want." I went up the stairs and was surprised to see my wife with a mischievous smile on her face. "I have a confession for you."

"You paid for the fake death thing didn't you? You're going to kill me and set the house on fire."

"Yes, that's exactly what I did and what I plan on doing," She dropped her robe and revealed a lacy, red night gown. "I bought this, I hope you don't mind."

"Keep your expectations low, I'm not Channing Tatum," I took her into my arms and kissed. It was good not to be dead.