I’ve been really busy lately. That makes me tired. Which in turn makes me like taking naps in the afternoon. This isn’t laziness, it’s just enough to keep me going.
Apparently napping makes me irresistable. But not like you think. No, the sight of me sleeping makes Mr. Seawitch want to wake me up, so he can see my facial expression.
He wakes me by throwing himself on me and screaming “Banzai!!” Generally I wake up to the sight of my beloved man, all 6’ and 220 pounds, midair directly over me and descending rapidly. I am told that my resulting expression of abject terror is very fetching.
He’s done this three times now. Obviously he deserves to die.
After I kill him, I’ll need a place to hide the remains, so I thought I could send each of you a small package to bury in your gardens. Who wants some?
Wait until he is taking a shower.
Fill a bucket with Water and liberally add ice to make it nice and cold.
Enter bathroom. Toss water over shower curtain while yelling Bonsai!
Alternative Idea:
Wait until the shower water stops running. When he steps out, squeeze a bottle of baby powder all over him while yelling Bonsai! Remember to not be heard while he’s in the shower.
No, no! He deserves to suffer first. I second the cold water over the top of the shower trick. But I think you should get your own battle cry. Let him have “Bonsai!” It’s stupid. I think you should try something unique. Maybe something starting with the letter F.
I’d just tell him that it’s a little know fact that the last thing John Wayne Bobbit said before he had his tragic little accident was “Bonzai”. Then send him out to fetch you a whetstone…
LOL!! reminds me of one of my parent’s “stories”. Apparently (and whether this was an accident or not varies from time to time as the story is told) back when my dad used to move furniture (in his younger years) he injured his leg somewhat and my mom would apply some BenGay to help with the pain. Apparently, one day, she kind of …missed. My mom laughs whenever she talks about the way he jumped around the room in pain…
Here’s two ways for you to get your revenge:
1.) Superglue, leg, and penis. Need I say more?
2.) Nail his nutsack to the floor, set the place on fire and hand him a razor blade. Let him sort out the rest.
Yeah, what GuanoLad said. Although it amuses me to think that your husband could develop a phobia for (or at least an aversion to) little manicured trees.
Does the name Lars Thorvald mean anything to you???
I’ll be glad to help out. I live in Upstate New York. They find bodies up here every few months, and hardly ever I.D. 'em. I’ve got an acre and a half. :eek:
*Heartfelt Minor Hijack: Somewhere under the felonious homicide you’re contemplating, remember that there are many people in the world who wish to God that they’d been fortunate enough to marry someone with such joy, love and humor in their heart that they even think to do such a thing with you now and again. It may be really irritating, but it’s also incredibly fun. Fun is a good thing. Or, so I hear. :mad: *
Now then. Who needs rubber gloves, and who needs small garden spades? I’ll be glad to arrange the shipping and distribution of materials…
Cartooniverse, or as they call me up here, " Mr. Lime Pit"
Oh - and if you’re going to ship the body in bits and pieces throughout the continent, I advise you use Ziploc bags, but the freezer grade variety. They ship well and won’t leak. Make sure to freeze them first - it helps avoid the stench which may tip off the mailman.
::: looks over shoulder :::
No, there’s no reason why I should know this from experience.
