Mildred sat in her hospital bed; eyes glued to Kenneth Copeland shilling. Her husband Woodrow grumbled in the next bed.
“Jeeesus, can we turn this clown off for one Goddamned night? And don’t you be sending that snake oil salesman another cent neither,” Woodrow squawked.

“Don’t be takin’ the lord’s name in vain!”
“I’d like to watch Duck Dynasty for a change. Them bearded duck guys love Jesus too!”
Mildred’s hospice nurse came in and handed her an extra-strength Fentanyl patch, and said, “Mildred, let’s put this on.”
“After I eat dear. It’s meatloaf night.”
The nurse nodded and left. With shaky hands, Mildred removed the adhesive backing from the patch and palmed the non-sticky side.
“Come help me up to the ladies. Then you can watch them duck boys.
Woodrow grinned, tottered over, and bent to lift her. She slid her hands behind his neck, placing the patch on his neck unnoticed. He helped her into the restroom, grabbed the remote, and climbed in bed. He grinned.
After they took Woodrow’s corpse, Mildred stopped the orderly.
“Dear, can you mail this?”
The $5000 check inside, payable to Revered Copeland, read: Prayers for the soul of Woodrow Munson, sinner.
This story appears as part of Betrayal, a PUNK NOIR Magazine series, originally published May 2024.
Bio
JD Clapp lives in San Diego, CA. His work has appeared in Cowboy Jamboree, Bristol Noir, Roi Fainéant Press, trampset, Punk Noir and numerous others. In 2023, he was a Pushcart nominee in nonfiction, and had a fictional story selected as a finalist in the Hemingway Shorts, Short Story competition. He is a regular contributor to Poverty House.
PUNK NOIR, the online literary and arts magazine that looks at the world at its most askew, casting a bloodshot eye over the written word, film, music, television and more.
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