by Tabitha Wolfe
[Upon the couch, whilst watching Breaking Bad]
Husband: *sniff*… I think my beard smells funny.
Wife: [baleful stare, as she can see where this is going]
Husband: Ummm…will you smell by beard and tell me if it smells funny?
Wife: No, I will not smell your beard, what is wrong with you?
Husband: I don’t mean funny like, “it smells like poop.” It just smells funny. Just smell it and tell me what it smells like.
Husband: [leaning in] Come on. Smell my beard. SMELL THE BEARD. SMELL IT!
Wife: You know, I’m pretty sure the neighbors can hear you.
[Reader, the beard smelled like peanut butter cups]
[After watching a Harry Potter movie, Wife walks into the bathroom to find Husband brandishing his toothbrush at his Advair diskus.]
Husband: I’m making a Horcrux.
Wife: Oh, good. Because for a minute, I thought that was your Patronus, and that would be strange.
Husband: No. No, this can’t be my Patronus. Patronuses are something alive.
Wife: Right! Wow, you’re good.
Husband: My Patronus is Lionel Richie.
[On the eve of an airplane journey]
Wife: So, I don’t know how much attention you’ve been paying to the news. Please be aware that you’re definitely going to get groped at the airport tomorrow. Try not to freak out.
Husband: It’s okay. It’s for the greater good.
Husband: Whenever anyone touches my junk, it’s for the greater good.
[Wife stumbles into the apartment late at night, after an unusually long day at work]
Husband: So, I got you a present today.
Wife: [hoping it is a donut] Can I have it now?
Husband: You already have it.
Wife: [blank stare]
Wife: So…I already have it, but I don’t know what it is?
Husband: That’s right!
Wife: … Is it cancer?
Husband: What?! God! No!
Wife: [depressed face] Is it a baby in my tummy?
Husband: Oh my god. What is wrong with you? I borrowed your car and filled the tank with gas. That was your present.
Wife: [brightly] That’s awesome! Thank you!
[Husband and Wife have a particularly… rowdy night. Probably they have had some drinks; they have failed to clear off the bed pre-rowdiness, and as a result, the evidence of said rowdiness ended up on some of their stuff, including Husband’s most beloved messenger bag. They go to the dry cleaners]
Husband: Yes, there are a few spots on the bag, please do your best to get them out, but I’ll understand if it’s not possible.
[Old Lady at the cleaners starts poking at the spots and running her fingers over them. Husband makes the mistake of making eye contact with Wife, who begins snickering]
Old Lady: Is this all of the spots?
Old Lady: [scratching at spots with her fingernail] What are these? Do you know what these spots are?
Old Lady: Hmmm?
Wife: [trying to stop laughing] I’m sorry. I don’t think we know what it is.
Husband: [loudly] IT’S JELLY.
[Upon the couch, watching Game of Thrones]
Wife: You know what I really like? Those paper toilet seat covers.
Husband: [cautiously] Yes. Those are a good invention.
Wife: What I like best about them is, when I take a huge dump at school? And it goes crashing through the paper? I like to imagine that my poop is a champion football team taking the field at the homecoming game.
Husband: [horrified, speechless stare]
Wife: Sometimes I sing a fight song for it.
[Just because you’re staying in Abilene, Kansas, and just because you’re staying in a room in a mansion that was where Ike played chess with his childhood friend “Swede,” this does not mean that your Husband will appreciate it if you pounce upon him in the middle of the night and bellow, “I AM THE GHOST OF MAMIE EISENHOWER!!!!”]
[On the eve of another airplane journey]
Wife: What’s the next thing on your to-do list before you leave for New York?
Husband: [squinting at list] Cyborg Battle.
Husband: … I… I can’t really read what I wrote there.
[After an hour: “Super Shuttle.”]
[Upon the couch, watching Mad Men]
Husband: There’s something sticky on the table. It got on my computer.
Wife: It wasn’t me.
Husband: It had to be you. I was gone. Is this semen? Did you put semen on the table? Have you been collecting semen?
Wife: Have you seen the movieThe Bone Collector?
Wife: Every time we bone, I collect.
[Husband spends at least ten minutes in the bread aisle looking for “Sad Diet Bread” brand bread, not realizing that it is Wife’s bitter description on the grocery list, not an actual product name.]
[Wife helps Husband to proofread a document. She crosses out the word “synergy” and writes “hateful word; please replace”]
Husband: I don’t think I’ll replace it.
Wife: That’s okay, of course. It’s up to you.
Husband: I mean, if something is truly malworded…
Wife: Don’t worry, honey. If it’s malworded, we’ll reverbify it.
About the author:
Tabitha Wolfe is the pen name of the Wife, who feels it is best to write under a pen name.