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Friday, December 17, 2010

One husband for sale

Friday, December 17, 2010 By

I got up the other morning and found that, after I went to bed the night before, Scott had devoured all but two of the awesome stocking stuffer items (which cannot be named as the recipient reads this blog) that I had in a pile of Christmas supplies on the kitchen counter.

I had looked for more of these just the day before, and could not find any. And now he must die. Shortly, he shuffles sleepily out of the bedroom.

"Scott, I give you fair warning that I must destroy you."


"Because you ate the (secret) for my (secret)," I glare.

"Ummm... but they were on the counter."

"Okay, really? So is the power bill, but you didn't eat that."

"Besides, they weren't very good. I saved (secret) some unpleasant experiences. Then (secret) would have had to tell you, and your feelings would have been hurt and-"

"What? They must have been good, since you ate all but two of them!"

"Yeah, well, I saved you some."

I glare.

"Um... I was sleepwalking," he attempts, knowing that he has a history of such incidents.


"I... have a head injury?"

"You're about to."

"I had a seizure?"

"You will when I get done with you."


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