The Lie
Sorry I'm late this week but I have a sort of reason for this.
I had a lousy week at work and it finally ended late on Saturday.
On my way home I called into a bar to gargle a few gurglers. A very attractive woman sits next to me, bought me a few drinks, and chatted me up.
The next thing I knows I'm back at her luxury apartment, it's 4.00 AM and I have just woken up from a night of snorting coke and extreme bedroom sports. I think "I'm dead! The missus will kill me".
All the way home I'm thinking about what to say. Just as I pull into my drive I had an inspiration,looked in the glove box and found a billiard cue chalk which I put behind my ear.
So, I walked in the door to be greeted by my homicidal wife with a meat cleaver in hand:-
"And where in hell have you been until this hour?!!!!"
"Well it was like this, I got chatted up by a bird in a bar, went back to her place shagged my brains out and-"
"Don't give me that crap you've been playing pool with the boys again haven't you?!!!!!"
4 comments:
LOL, that turned out differently than I thought. And, well, my very first thought was, that DOES NOT sound like Mr. Anchovy!
Dear AerChie
A ScHockingly narrow escape - how many of your 9 lives have you now expended
You should make a new Will, with clauses like
"I leave my Computer & photographic equipment and the best blogstie in the Anti=Podes to the Society of Malevolent UK Solicitors (hereinbelow named "SMUK") and I declare that the receipt of the General Secretary of SMUK in acknowledgement of a personal cheque in favour of the said SMUK's General Secretary shall be a full and absolute discharge to my Executors"
BTW Make sure you spell the gen sec's name KorreKtly - "G-Rabbit Eagle Esq"
Yrs grrrassspingly
G E
Heh-heh.
You should take my approach. I used to turn off the car and coast the last kilometre into the driveway, then I'd take off my shoes, oil the hinges, ease the door open and climb the stairs, taking care to skip the squeaky riser.
I'd undress in the bathroom with the lights out, only to find upon entering the bedroom She Who Must, wide awake and inquisitive as to my recent whereabouts, alcohol consumption, and mysterious lipstick stains.
But that was then.
Nowadays I screech into the drive with the horn blaring, slam the door repeatedly, dash up the steps, slap Mme on the bottom and say "How about some lovin', gorgeous?"
And she always pretend's she's asleep.
"pretends", dammit.
Post a Comment