This post may contain affiliate links. Please read our disclosure for more information.
Mr. Phone’s execution took place as scheduled on Friday, October 14 at 4:31pm EDT. Mr. Phone was convicted of many crimes—of which the most heinous offense was Aggravated Assault on Brain Cells. I’m at peace now that he’s gone.
Before his execution began, Mr. Phone slowly and deliberately ate his last supper. It consisted of three Slim Jims, a bag of Cheetos, and a bottle of Dr Pepper. He walked to our garage of his own accord with his hands tied behind his back. He stood silently in place awaiting his fate. As promised, he had no final words, only a calm look of resignation on his face.
Mr. Phone was put to death with a lethal dose of sledgehammer. I, Mrs. Groovy, carried out the execution with Mr. Groovy as my witness. As vowed, Mr. Phone began singing “Amazing Grace” as I swung the sledgehammer back behind my shoulder to take my first whack at him.
Whack 1. 🎶Amazing grace🎶how sweet the sound
Whack 2. 🎶That saved a wretch🎶like—SILENCE.
He was done.
That didn’t stop me from getting in whacks 3 through 10.
I didn’t realize the symbolism at the time, but I do now. Ten whacks for ten wretched years of Mr. Phone’s criminal behavior. Ten years of his torment. Ten years of his omnipresence in my bedroom. I suppose I got a little carried away with myself, but his existence was enough to drive a girl mad. And afterwards, I pondered—
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.
I felt executioner’s remorse for one brief second when I wondered if Mr. Phone still might have been useful to someone else. I mean, I write about frugality—shouldn’t I lead by example? After all, Mr. Phone had some life left in him no matter how wretched he was. But then I had second thoughts. What if we found Mr. Phone a new home and he tainted it with his baggage and with the ghosts of his past crimes? No, I couldn’t take that chance.
But out of respect for the entire personal finance community I removed the four generic batteries I placed in Mr. Phone’s gullet as a backup. And I tucked them away neatly in a drawer.
Some of you clamored for video of the execution, but I didn’t have the heart to subject Mr. Groovy to the job of documenting the grisly details. So I took this one photo of Mr. Phone’s brutal death. It’s horrible, I know—but force yourself to look at it. It’s a symbol of my freedom. Mr. Phone was a thoroughly repugnant creature without one redeeming quality. May the bast@@d rot in hell!
Leave a Reply to Mrs Groovy Cancel reply