Wife Sees Husband Having Fun And Thinks, I Must Put A Stop To That
Berta Beeswax came home today to find her husband and his friends sitting on the couch drinking beer and watching a movie. They appeared to her to be having fun and she thought to herself, “That's not on”. She decided it most important to put a stop to it immediately. “How can he just sit there and enjoy himself”, she thought. “Why isn’t he thinking about the kids, the rent and the fact that he might look a little fat in those jeans? How can he simply just be watching a movie and enjoying himself?” It wasn’t fair and she desperately wanted it to end. But how.
“Are there any dishes that need doing?”, she thought. “He will say that he will do them later, but she will insist they be done now? Maybe she could start crying and walk past him and slam the bedroom door without a word. His friends would be uncomfortable and want to leave. Yeah, that would ruin his fun the happy little fucker.”
Berta, like so many women, is sick and tired of her man's ability to simply enjoy himself and not have a thousand thoughts a second run through his mind. Where’s the dread, where’s the sense of impending doom? Where’s the self-loathing every time he catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror?
She goes to the kitchen. “Oh no”, she thinks. “The bastard has already done the dishes. So that’s how he wants to play?” Immediately she searches the house and garden for something he can do but nothing can be found. The house is spotless, the grass has been cut. She will have to attack him emotionally instead. She loads up her memory bank for arguments they have had over the years. She mentally shuffles through every perfectly catalogued moment. “Do I bring up that Christmas where he called me a “spoiled cow” in front of my whole family? No”, she thinks “I’ll save that for when I really want to fuck with him.”
Then it hits her. The perfect moment. A moment so vague and unremarkable he won't have the slightest clues what she is talking about. It's perfect.
The man, blissful in his own stupidity is unaware of the impending tirade. In those fleeting moments of happiness, he thinks nothing can bring him down, nothing can ruin his day, but right now, he is a castle. His drawbridge is down and his gate open. He is defenseless and woefully unprepared for the onslaught that is about to take place.
She walks out from the kitchen and asks what movie is on? She doesn’t care, but she must make small talk. She couldn’t simply launch into her attack without warning. No. That would make her seem like some sort of lunatic. “Transformers”, replies one of his friends in hope she’ll piss off.
Not today Bub, not today.
Now is the time to insert the rusty knife. “That Megan Fox is pretty isn’t she”, she says. “She kind of reminds me of that girl from the post office. What’s her name again?”, she asks staring in her husbands direction. Barely listening he brushes her off with a quick reply, “I don’t know”. With almost no hesitation Bertha screams loudly, “Well you bloody well should know her name. You were all over her last week when you bought those stamps. I bet you’d like to lick her stamps”. Bertha realizing her last line made zero sense storms off to the bedroom slamming the door as loud as she can. His friends can be heard leaving shortly after. The movie is paused. She sits on the bed happy with the execution of her plan and thinks. “That will teach him to be happy”.
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