Our story starts out on a beach, outside a small village in Haiti. Just ahead, behind a sand dune, there stands a small boy, about the age of nine or ten. He is extremely focused on the chore of trying to lure a plump cat into his homemade trap. He is attempting to use the milk of a freshly picked coconut to entice his prey....

While in a totally separate corner of the world, we find ourselves in the humble abode of Dick and Janice Loveless. These two, as many other people would see them, were the perfect couple. They had been married for 28 years, and were still very much in love. But, as in all relationships, the road gets a little bumpy sometimes.

It was March 29, 1931 when the Loveless’ met with the highlight of their lives. Dick was engaged in his normal routine of lounging in his favorite chair and reading the evening newspaper. Janice was upstairs folding her freshly-washed laundry. The peculiar thing about this particular evening was that the two of them had recently been at each other’s throat, with one of those married couple’s we-don’t-have-a-clue-why-it-happened arguments. The strange thing about this argument was that this was the longest period of time they had gone without speaking to one another. Dick was convinced that Janice was being very childish, and tried to patch things up in a jokingly, antagonistic sort of way. However, Janice was having any part of his sarcastic bullshit.

Several days had already gone by, when Dick decided to confront the problem. He told her, "You are still my wife. If this is the way you’re going to treat me, we might as well be divorced." Janice was too overcome by this statement, so she screamed down the stairs to Jack, "You are truly an asshole." She bolted to the bedroom to shed her tears.

As she lay sprawled across the bed crying, a heavy thought crossed her mind. She thought, "Why have I devoted my entire life to such an inconsiderate man?" "Maybe he is right, why the hell are we even in this thing?"

As she was thinking these thoughts, Dick called out, "Hey! Soon-to-be-ex-wife-of-mine, would you be so kind as to come and prepare The Last Supper?"

Upon hearing this, Janice was totally through. She stumbled to her feet, and fell forward toward the headboard. Just above the headboard, there was this collection of assorted handheld weapons, dating back to medieval times, that Jack had spent many years accumulating. The last image we have of Janice, is her racing towards the stairs, with one of the handheld weapons clinched tightly in her hand.