James Preston
Once upon a time my wife and were doing our second-favorite thing, sitting up late at night reading. Suddenly she yelled something like ARRGH or UGH and threw the book across the room, where the poor thing bounced off the wall and landed on the floor. The cat wisely jumped up and took off for parts unknown, while I was thinking, “She’s between me and the kitchen where all the sharp objects are.”
“Uh, honey, is something wrong?”
“At the end, an atomic bomb went off and they all died.”
“Uh, why did the bomb go off?”
”No reason. Just because.”
She wasn’t kidding. The End. And they all died unhappily ever after.
And I know how she felt because when I was in Junior High I read a novel about hot rodders where, at the end, the hero drives off a bridge, his head…
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Anna Dobritt -- Author 
Thanks for sharing this, Anna