Gen, leans more toward first anime!Barry's past, though this could be either the anime or the manga. Unbeta'd.
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She'd cooked the meal, so Barry had to clean. It was supposed to be equal or some shit, but Barry thought it just bullshit, straight bullshit. She hadn't even cooked. The meat came from his shop, cooked by one of the part time helpers. All she did was drop it on the table and whine about how heavy it was, can't we ever eat anything else?
Sorry, sweetheart, but marrying a butcher means you eat meat. She obviously didn't read the fine print when she put on the ring.
Barry put the knife down on the table and sighed, a plaintive sound. His wife was a hell of a lot warmer on the inside than on the outside, the frigid bitch.
His cigar was still burning in the ashtray, so he grabbed it, took a long drag and blew it right back out in her face while she tried to climb to her feet, hands holding on to the edge of the kitchen table. She shook so hard that the table began shifting across the ground.
Her mouth was still moving. The bitch never shut up, not for a goddamn second.
"You still hangin' on, honey?" he asked, idly tapping ash onto the back of her hand. She whimpered and lost her grip, crumpling to the floor in a heap, blood dribbling out of the new hole in her stomach. "Give up already. I got shit to do today."
She was crying, too, like she didn't deserve it. Well, Barry thought she did, and he was the guy with the knife, so what he said fucking went. How about that?
Head cocked to the side, Barry leaned against the counter and watched her body shake and spasm, heard her final rattling breath. "About fucking time," he said, and laughed. It was a relief, not having to deal with her anymore. She could be as much of a bitch as she wanted in Hell.
The only thing to do was figure out how to get rid of what was left of her. It'd be a pain, getting caught with his wife's dead body. He stared down at her, thinking.
Figures, he thought disgustedly. She was just as much trouble dead as she was alive.
But then something caught his eye, a familiar opened letter, something that he'd received the day before. The crest of Amestris was embossed on the front, and the paper inside held a proposed contract. His meat, the military's lunch. Barry snatched up the letter, read over it and turned the idea over in his mind.
He looked down at his dead wife, back to the letter, and grinned.
"No point in wasting good meat, right?" He kicked her body. "Gonna put you to good use, babe, how's that sound?"
No response. Oh, right, she was dead.
Folding the letter, Barry tucked it in the front pocket of his shirt and bent down, grabbing her arms and dragging her across the kitchen. He had to get her in the freezer before she started going bad.
He'd confirm the contract with the military the next morning. Barry had a feeling he'd have plenty of meat to send their way in the future.