A Game of Power

A Game of Power

It's a hot day and I hate my wife.
We're playing Scrabble. Yes, that's how bad it is. I'm 42 years old, it's a boiling hot Sunday afternoon and all I can think of to do with my life is to play Scrabble.
I should be out, going to the gym, buying newly released games, meeting people (anyone is better than my wife!). I don't think I've spoken to anyone except my wife since Thursday morning. And even then, it was only a shopkeeper I spoke to when I was buying some more tea bags for my wife!
My letters suck. I play appropriately, BEGIN. I get 22 points for it.
I watch my wife's smug expression as she rearranges her letters. Clack, clack, clack. I hate her. If she wasn't around, I'd be doing something fun right now. I'd be playing computer games with friends. I'd be 'legally' downloading movies and watching them. I'd be getting fit again, marriage takes its toll on your weight! - I don't know exactly what, but I'd be doing something anyway!
She plays JINXED, with the J on one of those double-letter score squares. That gives her 30 points. She's beating me already. Maybe I should kill her. If only I had a D, then I could play MURDER. That would be a sign. That would be permission.
I start chewing on my U. It's a bad habit, I know. All the letters are worn a bit over it. I play WARMER for 22 more points to me, mainly so I can keep chewing on my U.
As I'm picking new letters from the bag, I find myself thinking - the letters will tell me what to do. If they spell out KILL, or STAB, or her name, or anything, I'll do it right now. I'll finish her off.
My rack spells MIHZPA. Plus the U in my mouth. Damn it!
The heat of the sun is pulsing at me through the window. I can hear buzzing insects outside. I hope they're not bees. My cousin Ryan swallowed a bee when he was nine, his throat swelled up and he died. I hope that if they are bees, they fly down my wife's throat.
She plays SWEATIER, using all her letters. 24 points plus a 50 point bonus. If it...