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She comes up to me, hand loosely gathered into a fist. She smiles and holds out her hand as though she has a present for me.
Well, she always has a "present" for me when she does this--and not a nice one, either. She's always showering me with gifts of rocks, worms, amphibians, and bugs. I don't understand this, but sometimes when she looks up in just the right way, gazing with her almond-shaped cat's eyes, I think, "She can't really be a dog person. She's too evil."
Lately, I've learned to jump back quickly, not wanting her gift to attack my eyes, fragile little orbs protecting the entrance to my soul.
She opens her hand, lifting her arm as she tilts her palm down towards me. Something small and green springs out, shooting straight and true for my eyes or ears or nose.
Trust my wife to be in collusion with grasshoppers. Trust my wife to figure out how to aim them, gunlike, rendering the yard completely unsafe for me.
Well, she always has a "present" for me when she does this--and not a nice one, either. She's always showering me with gifts of rocks, worms, amphibians, and bugs. I don't understand this, but sometimes when she looks up in just the right way, gazing with her almond-shaped cat's eyes, I think, "She can't really be a dog person. She's too evil."
Lately, I've learned to jump back quickly, not wanting her gift to attack my eyes, fragile little orbs protecting the entrance to my soul.
She opens her hand, lifting her arm as she tilts her palm down towards me. Something small and green springs out, shooting straight and true for my eyes or ears or nose.
Trust my wife to be in collusion with grasshoppers. Trust my wife to figure out how to aim them, gunlike, rendering the yard completely unsafe for me.
