"If I'm in the laundry basket, she can't miss me!" Homer muses even though under much stress. Hurriedly he scales the plastic mesh of the basket and lays in the bottom like a ginerbread man. "There is no way she can miss me now!" He thinks cheerfully. He hears Marge's giant foot steps coming down the hall and her shadow comes into the room. He's moments from having his adoring wife seeing him, when she tosses off her bra and it lands on him first.
"What?! Marge!" he yells out trying to get out of the dome tent sized bra cup, then more clothing items crumple down on him.
"That sounded like it may have come from outside," she seems to think aloud. She'd heard Homer's tiny cry for help, but thought it must be far away. Dumping the rest of her clothes into the basket she goes nude to the bedroom window to look around for any sign of trouble. With nothing, she's off to the bathroom for a shower.
"Doh! How can this be?!" Homer groans slapping himself in the face.
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