Your guess is as good as mine

“I thought we were happy . . .” she sobbed uncontrollably. As I cradled her wilting body, trying desperately to sooth her, it occurred to me that the blood spatter on the wall resembled a doughnut. At this I laugh, and know that hell’s gates have opened a bit wider, eagerly awaiting my arrival. “What the fuck is so funny” she hisses, looking at me angrily, and I have no answer -- how do you tell the woman you love that you find humor in the final remains of her soul mate?