Margaret's plan was to kill her husband with

Margaret's plan was to kill her husband with the anniversary present he'd bought her.

Margaret was going to iron her husband to death just as soon as she worked out how the steam function worked.

Horace wouldn't take that lying down, nor could he let on that he could read Margaret's thoughts. He regretted that he wasn't as flat as he was previously, but murder? His tea

was ready. Horace got up and read some more of Margaret's thoughts. As he sipped his tea he was sure he saw some murderous thoughts in there. He would have to confront her.

Sinking back into his armchair, Horace let his mind reached out. His thoughts latched onto Margaret's soul with grim determination. As she became aware of his spiritual snare, she

invoked the dormant spirit within her. This ancient God of no form but unlimited power had been ready to awake when called for. And right now, Margaret needed him. She needed Phil.

"PHIL!" Margaret cried, her arms crossed across her chest. "If you really exist, show me a sign. Anything...show me you are real! Come forth from inside me!" The ancient God Phil

stepped out from behind a light pole. "Huh," Margaret breathed, "so God is a scrawny little thing." His beady eyes narrowed, "I am the great and powerful ancient God Phil!" He ran

across the street, tripped over a Chihuahua, and was struck by a taxi advertising Personal Injury Attorneys. This was the sign that had been foretold long ago.

"And such shall be the beginning of the end of times, the downfall of all mankind, the final procession of death is upon ye." I continued along my day, unfettered by this nonsense.