Taco Night
"You wouldn't understand," she said. "It's not a matter of life and death, but I just can't imagine living on this earth without you..."

As the juices from the green pepper she was slicing ran through the gouges in the cutting board, Clovis imagined executing a bizarre acrobatic stunt, kicking the knife from her hands and catching it with his teeth in mid-air; he could practically taste the sweet tang on his tongue.

"I have sacrificed so much, and to give up at this point would invalidate my entire existence. We have to go to the Southwest. My people will welcome you..."

Clovis tried to act casual as he leaned backwards against the counter, accidentally mushing one of his hands into a large glob of ground meat. His hand clenched instinctively as the cold mess licked his palm; bright pink miasma oozed from between his fingers.

"You will never have to worry about anything ever again. We can adopt a child and live a normal, happy life. This is what you have always wanted, isn't it? What we want..."

His muscles tensed as he prepared to strike. The diligient study of martial arts all coming to this crucial moment. The spirit of the eagle swelled in his chest and he lept high in the air, yelping wildly. The lines of the world seemed to stretch and spin as the years of repression and fear were drawn out in a few seconds of wrath and bloody retribution.

Clovis landed, crushing a pack of hard tortillas under his feet. He didn't have to look down to know that Barbara had completely disemboweled him. It was better this way. As the pain of death began to wind it's way around his broken body, Clovis finally spoke:

"I would never marry a Martian diguised as a human, " he gasped. "And...I hate tacos..."