The Little Woman

I would hate to say I “sent” my wife to the store. I might have asked if she could kindly get off her lazy ass long enough to go to the store for some milk. I think I maybe suggested a can of those little cocktail weenies. I'm sure I mentioned that a six-pack of beer would be nice too, if she had the time in her busy schedule, and if it wasn't too much trouble.

She looked at me. Then she said, “We have milk.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then just get some of those cocktail weenies. And a yard gnome or two if they're still on sale. And ...”

“A six-pack of beer?”

“If it's not too much trouble,” I said. "And some milk."

"We have milk, you ass-hole!"

"Well," I said, "Get some more damn milk."

She just stared at me in that way I'd seen a thousand times. Then she said, “I'll be back real soon, daddy,” and grinned in a way I don't think I remember.

That was sixteen days ago.

I can be a jerk. I know it. You think I don't know it?

I should have said, “Gorgeous, lazy ass." I should have said, "Get off your big, fat, gorgeous, lazy ass."

If I had done that, said that, she'd be back by now.

Hells-bells! Who am I kidding?

She'd have been back days ago.


-212 words-