A/N: ok, ppl. this story is a behind-the-scenes look at the 6 merry murderesses of the Cook County Jail (Chicago, Illinois). there will only b 6 short chapters, so this story will probably b done soon (jinx). (also, i will include their lyrics of the song at the beginning of each chapter) so read on! plus, at the end, i'll ad the hubby's point of view right before he gets killed! MUA HA HA HAAAA!!!

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You know how some people have these little habits that get you down? Like Bernie--Bernie he liked to chew gum.... no not chew--POP. So this one day I come home from work real irritated, and I'm lookin' for a little sympathy.... and there's Bernie. Lyin' on a couch and chewin. No, not chewin', POPPIN'. So I said to him, I said, 'You pop that gum one more time...' and he did. So I took the shotgun off the wall and fired two warning shots...into his head.

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Liz unlocked the door to her apartment. Immediately she was greeted by that familiar noise--Bernie popping his gum.

"Bernie, would you STOP?" she asked, entering the living room, where he was lying on the couch reading a paper. "How many times do I have to tell you how annoying that gum-popping is? It sounds like....they're ripping cement up off the sidewalk!"

"Calm down, honey," Bernie laughed. "I think you're overreacting here. It's just a little habit."

"No, it's a big annoying habit," Liz growled, pulling out of the embrace Bernie tried to draw her into. "Just do me a favor and please don't pop your gum tomorrow. It's our anniversary, and I'd like to be able to hear myself think."

"Sure doll, whatever you say," Bernie agreed. "So anyway, I was thinkin' maybe we could go down and see the Kelly sisters sing tomorrow."

"Why, you wanna bring one of 'em home with you?" Liz asked. "You know, that Velma one is already married."

"Hey, I'm only tryin' to do what you want here, doll--you don't wanna see the Kelly sisters, we don't havta see the Kelly sisters," Bernie said, blowing a bubble and letting it pop. Liz twirled around to glare at him. "What? I was just blowin' a bubble. Not poppin', nothin' to get sore at."

"Yeah, well..." Liz sighed and crossed over to the kitchen. "Someday I oughta come up with something that bothers YOU, and see how you like it."

"Sure, you do that, Lizzie," Bernie said.

"I told you, I don't like bein' called Lizzie," Liz said through clenched teeth. "So cut it out, will you?"

"Yeah, sorry," Bernie apologized, popping his gum again.

"BERNIE!!" Liz shouted.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Bernie said. "It's tough to break a habit, though! I don't know how to stop!"

Liz sighed and tried to concentrate on making dinner. But the occasional pop from Bernie made her drop the chopping knife she was carring. She wanted to throw it at his head, but silently began praying that one day he'd stop. Maybe it was just some kind of phase he was going through....

The next day.....

"It's nothing personal, Liz, really," said her boss, Mr. Flint. He leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk. "But the agency feels that maybe you're getting a little--oh, I don't know....a little laid back. Like your taking your pay for granted type of thing, y'know?"

"But Mr. Flint, I'm not," Liz said quietly.

"That may be so, but there's a new wave of models coming in," Mr. Flint said lazily. "Young, beautiful, and with bodies to die for. Don't get the wrong idea, though, Liz--I'm not calling you ugly. You're an old favorite of mine, y'know?"

"Then what, exactly, are you saying, Mr. Flint?" Liz asked through gritted teeth.

"Well, the department figures that we ought to let you go," Mr. Flint answered. "You've been working for us for a real long time and all, and we need more spots for the new girls."

"I'm getting fired?" Liz asked in disbelief.

"Well....yes," Mr. Flint answered. "But don't worry about finding another job, Liz. I'm sure plenty of other agencies would kill to get their hands on you."

"Seems like you're killing to get RID of me," Liz growled.

"Don't get sore, baby, I just--"

"I can take a hint," Liz said hotly. "Good-bye." She walked out of his office and slammed the door loudly behind her. Once she got outside of the building, she fell to the ground and began to cry.

She'd been working at that agency for ten years, ever since she was thirteen. And suddenly they were just dropping her, like yesterday's newspaper, and old woman. She couldn't stand the thought of having to go home and tell Bernie she'd been fired.

But he'd understand. Bernie always understood.....well, almost....

*FLASHBACK*

"Liz, can't you get anything right?!" Bernie shouted. "I don't see what's so hard about keeping a dog alive for a couple weeks!"

"I'm tellin' you, Bernie, it wasn't my fault!" Liz screamed. "That dog of yours was just an idiot! He ran right into the street of his own free will, and then got run over by that bus car! It's not like I threw him on the track or anything!"

"How did he get off his leash, weren't you watchin' him?!"

"Of course I was! But a dog who wants freedom will stop at nothin' till he gets it! That Dane bit threw the leash like it was a piece of string!"

Bernie angrily slammed his fist onto the table. "Liz, that was my prize winning dog you murdered!"

"For the love of heaven, Bernie! I didn't kill him! I didn't do anything!"

"I can't trust you with anything!" Bernie cried, slapping Liz roughly across the face. She fell back onto the couch behind her. He seemed undaunted when she moaned in pain. Then he ran outside the front door and didn't come back until the next morning.

**PRESENT**

Liz stood up and shivered. She didn't know why she had suddenly recalled that dark evening. A tear came to her eye and she hastily brushed it away. Bernie could just lose him temper sometimes, that was all. Besides, hadn't he come back and apologized for his behavior?

But it was after that accident that Bernie began his habit of chewing. 'No,' Liz thought to herself. 'Not chewing, popping.' It was the most irritating noise in the entire world.

Fumbling with her keys, Liz opened the front door. All she wanted right now was for Bernie to wrap his strong arms around her and tell her it would be all right. She saw him lying on the couch and chewin'. No, not chewin--

"Popping!" Liz shouted. "Stop it!"

"Hey, ain't you home early?" Bernie asked. "Is there a problem, doll?" He grinned and popped his gum again.

Suddenly, Liz was filled with an undescribable hatred. She glared at him. "Bernie, if you pop that gum ONE more time...."

And he did. "Whatcha gonna do, Liz?"

Liz silently walked over to the fireplace and reached for the shotgun that hung over it on the wall. And she shot twice--into his head. Bernie's body went limp as it turned over slightly, and a colorless piece of gum dropped out of his gaping mouth.

Then Liz suddenly realized the noise she'd made. She heard footsteps outside the room. "Did you hear that?" someone asked.

"It sounded like a gun going off!"

"Oh, somebody call the police!"

Liz opened the door and saw a small throng of people gathered in front of it. She threw the gun aside and pushed through them, running down the hallway and out of sight.

But she was glad she'd done it.

*******from Bernie's point of view********

I heard a noise from outside the door and saw Liz come in soon after. I glanced at the clock. She was home from her modeling job three hours early today. Suddenly, she screamed at me and accused me of popping my gum.

I asked her if there was a problem, and I popped my gum again. Boy, did she seem steamed up about something. Just the sight of her pathetic angered body made me grin a little. But that only made her angrier, I think.

Then she said, "Bernie, if you pop that gum one more time...."

She was actually threatening me? That was a real laugh. "Whatcha gonna do?" I asked her mockingly, popping my gum again to annoy her. I watched her cross the room to the mantle above the fireplace.

When she turned around, she was holding a shotgun. My eyes widened I saw her pull the trigger--

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A/N: dun dun DUNNNNNN! is this okay? or stupid, or what? plz review!! o, and from now on, i am going 2 have the stories told from the POV of the woman, 2. ok? ok.