I heard a story on the radio on my way to work this morning that is worth retelling. It seems there was a wife who was looking at pictures on her husband’s phone. Who knows where the husband was while this was occurring? Perhaps he was mowing the yard. Maybe he was in the shower. The wife was outraged that her husband of so many years secretly had pictures of this young female on his personal phone. This was obvious evidence that he was being unfaithful to her. When the husband made his appearance, a bitter confrontation followed.
There is a thought that behind every angry woman stands a man who has absolutely no idea what he did wrong, no more than most people would know why the Russians celebrate the October Revolution in November.
And so it was in this case. The husband had no idea why his wife was so outrageously angry. At the height of the argument the wife stabbed her husband with a butcher knife. As the husband falls to the floor, the last of his life ebbing with the flow of blood from his mutilated chest, he croaks, “Why?”
The wife shoves the husband’s phone into his face and says, “Why don’t you ask HER, whoever she is.”
The husband’s dying words to his wife were, “That’s you before we got married. Don’t you recognize yourself?”
An email friend provided me with the following tale. A woman of impeccable esteem went to visit her neighborhood pharmacist. With great determination, quite uncharacteristic for her, she walked up to the counter, looked the pharmacist directly in the eyes, and said, “I want to purchase cyanide.”
The pharmacist questioned the woman as to the intended use of this product. She replied, “I need it to kill my husband.” The pharmacist was astonished, and would have thought the woman was joking, except for the fact that she rarely if ever joked and maintained her direct stare and stiff posture. He told the woman that he could ethically in no way be complicit in anyone’s murder.
Without another word the woman reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph. She presented it to the pharmacist. The photograph captured the woman’s husband and the pharmacist’s wife in the very act of adultery. The pharmacist turned a few shades of white, “Oh, you didn’t tell me you had a prescription.” He then promptly fulfilled the woman’s request.
I close with a true story. I attended a bluegrass festival at Big Ridge State Park. I wandered around, looking at the vendor’s wares. There was a lady who was displaying very beautiful floral arrangements and decorative wreaths of her own creation. They were a picture of creative beauty. I asked her if she ever made funeral wreaths. She replied that she had never to this point but probably could if someone wanted one.
I told her, “I need a wreath for my wife.”
“Oh, I’m so very sorry, when did she pass away?”
I replied, “Oh, she’s still alive. I just want to be ready when I get around to killing her!”
The look of astonishment on the woman’s face was worth the effort. I did assure her that I was only joking. As proof, this happened about three years ago, and my bride and I will celebrate fifteen years of marriage this July 8, this is, if she (or I) live that long. After all, she is not the one who found a broken light bulb in the bottom of her morning coffee!!!!!!!
Until next time, Friendly Reader, I leave you with this question: Of what is a camel’s hair brush made? Check out historicunioncounty.com next week for the answer.