The Birthday

         You know how in sitcoms a husband will have completely forgotten about his wife’s birthday, so he says “I’ll be right back…” and jumps into his car, searching for the nearest store that’s open? Yeah, that was me tonight.

         I woke up in the morning at the crack of noon, as usual, and sensed something was wrong. My wife (whose name I won’t reveal, for my own safety) was staring down at me. It reminded me of the time she found out she was pregnant. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she was getting ready to kill me. It was then that I sensed something was wrong. Call it intuition, but something in that “I’m going to maul you with a chisel” stare got me thinking. What was I missing?

         I got out of bed and made myself a bagel. Well, so much as someone can “make” themselves a bagel. My wife was following me around, and I decided it best to keep her away from any sharp objects. I was also very tempted to ask “what’s wrong?” but years of experience had taught me to steer clear of that question. Asking my wife what was wrong was like inviting her to tell me everything I’d done wrong for the past year. And seeing as I hadn’t asked her in a couple years, the response could take hours. So, to make a long story short, I gave her my bagel.

         Her spiteful look didn’t go away. She still followed me around, nagging at everything I did. Unfortunately, this was nothing new, so I had no idea what I was supposed to get from this. It wasn’t until dinner that I discovered the problem. It was her birthday. Crap.

         We had gone out to dinner at a fancy steak place, as we usually do on her birthday. However, we also do that every Friday night too, which this happened to be. What gave it away was what she ordered. Instead of ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, she ordered the 24 oz. Filet Mignon with a bottle of their most expensive wine. It was almost as if she was sending me a sign. A sign that said “You son of a bitch, this is what you get- you’re paying tonight.” Yeah, it was then that I realized it was her birthday.

         I decided to try and play if off as if I knew all along. That didn’t go down too well. As soon as I said Happy Birthday she threw the bottle of wine at me. You know how in cartoons, when the coyote gets hit with an anvil he somehow manages to be unscathed and comes back for the next episode? Well, I’ll have you know, a full glass of wine may not be an anvil, but it sure does hurt like hell. It was then that I realized she would be expecting the present-of-all-presents. So, this was where I used the “I’ll be right back…” scheme.

         I went to the closest stores that were still open and found nothing. The closest thing I found that was even close to resembling a worthwhile present was a pearl necklace, but I got her that for the last anniversary I forgot. It even looked exactly like it, too. I looked in the phonebook, praying that something would sparkle and I would find the perfect gift. I tried to think of what my wife liked. What were her hobbies? Did she have a favorite animal? Yes! I vaguely remembered her saying she liked elephants.

         In desperation mode now, I did the only thing I could do. I bought my wife an elephant; not a stuffed elephant but a real-life, peanut-eating elephant. Talk about romantic! This was sure to win her over. Who wouldn’t love an elephant? I’ll tell you who: my wife. And here I thought I was redeeming myself by buying her an expensive present.

         I tried every trick in the book after that, and I was rapidly running out of ideas. Finally, I decided I would be a gentleman and pay for her birthday dinner. She threw the wine bottle again and I haven’t seen her since. Or the elephant, for that matter.

         Anyway, I’m sure she’ll come back sooner or later. This isn’t the first time I’ve done something stupid. I just hope she remembers that my birthday is tomorrow.

(733 words)