Suicide Tales...Installment one?

Dear Diary,

Sitting here in this tavern, drinking bottle after bottle I waste away. I'm writing this here drunk as I am as I have no where else to go. Pass the bottle pour it down, turn the frown upside down. If only this could alleviate the darkness. I’m smiling now but how long will the alcohol last?

This was a beautiful day till now. The sun shone so bright this morning and the moon looked so promising on my way home. I got a promotion today and closed a deal I never even hoped I could. Signing bonuses paid in cash. I went round to buy the classiest wine I had ever had. Tonight would be a celebration, a high point of the day.

I had set all plans in play to thank the woman who laid in wait. I would get home and dawn her with this necklace that I’d found and sprinkle on the floor the petals of the roses I had in hand. I could kiss her so lightly then swoop her off the floor. Take her to the living room and wait for the knock on the door.
Dinner would arrive, she couldn't cook tonight, she had to be spoilt and pampered for putting up with this old broken man. I’d feed her with my own two hands. Then carry her off to the bathroom and wash her feet and hair. Then to the bed to massage her aching bones cause she must have had a hard week slaving for you know who. Then back to the bathroom to cleanse her aching soul. Sponge her down and bathe her with bubbles, kisses and hand. Then back to the bedroom to make the sweetest love I could, to pleasure the woman I love tonight was the endeavor I had taken.

But as my car pulled up the driveway, the bedroom lights lay glaring hauntingly. Nothing unusual to alert my senses, why would it? I opened the door and walked right in. Dinner arrived early so I set it down on the table and the candles lit. Snuck upstairs as quiet as I could, I wanted to surprise her but I suspected she already knew I had arrived home.

I know you think you know what lay awaiting me, and I know you know you're right. You’ve heard this tale a 1000 times. If truth be told and to yourself be honest, most people have experienced this before at one time or the other. But diary, my dear diary I know you think you've heard it all, I know you think you know it all, but diary sweet diary, you need to know the reasons for the bottles I’ve been downing. There as you expected was my wife with another man, in the explicit act of illicit sex. Doing things I never would expect, well because they had never been done to me. And in truth that was what sparked my jealousy.

These are things I had wished were done to me, things I had, had to pay other women to do. But that is beside the point. There I stood watching, suddenly become aroused and the thought of joining them did creep into my mind. But then the rage over took me! A jealous uncontrollable rage as would fill any man. She was doing things she had never done to me and so I like every lovers tale involving rage I sought my gun to end this stories page. But as I returned in my gun trotting rage, the vision displayed to my eyes made me freeze to the spot by the door. For right there the sight to greet me was my wife with a bloodied axe and her lover in pieces.

I watched as she chopped him with passion and skill of an x-rated butcher. And like my aroused manhood, my gun too receded. To the darkness of the corner I found myself retreating as she hacked up him pieces and then bagged him. After which to the attic she proceeded. In that room that lay above me every night, I found the God the atheists had denied. For all over the wooden floor that was meant to lay bare, laid bodies of broken men.

My heart raced, my eyes watered, my stomach churned. She placed the bag down and sat right beside it. She liked her fingers and a cigar she lighted. In the bedroom where I found myself seconds later, I watched the bed, sheets soaked in blood and pillows stained. And I released this was where every night I laid and suddenly my legs discovered the power within them.

So here I am in a bar on some desert road, drowning bottles to clear my head. My phones been ringing, you know who it is. She must have seen the dinner I had carefully laid. It’s been a few too many bottles a text comes in. Three words ’I love you’ from the woman I had married.

Diary dear diary, please advice, the next move i should make, as the next bottle arrives