Well, ladies and germs, seems like I’ve done it again. The wife caught wind of my latest caper, and let’s just say that ’ol Bill is going to be sidelined for a bit. Long story short, folks, I am back in the doghouse.
Yessir, I’ve mucked it up good this time. She caught me screwing around with another man’s wife. And friends, if you think the jury’s gathering on this one, forget it. Give ’em a ham sandwich and send ’em on home. I am guilty as charged!
Ladies and gentlemen, I repeat: Do not look for me in my usual quarters. I am not there, effective immediately. In fact, if you’re reading this, Mr. Postman, forward my mail directly to the doghouse, courtesy of the biggest dope you ever saw. The wife is out for blood on this one.
She took a look around my inbox, asked me, “Who’s Jennifer?” and it was a whole snafu from there. God as my witness, folks, I watched her heart break right in front of my eyes. Yup! There was no need to flip a coin—she knew then and there that the last two years of our marriage have been a sham, plain and simple. Just point me toward the linen closet, because this old dog is on the couch until further notice!
Hand in the cookie pot, nose in the trash, this extramarital affair is another vintage Bill screwup.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve tipped my fair share of garbage cans, but the sight of my wife sobbing a hole through our marital bed makes those past antics look like a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Mark my words, people: This one’s a grade-A doozy.
And take it from me, folks: When the missus gets on the horn with her sister the lawyer, it’s not, “How’s the weather?” No way, José. This gaffe has got my prints all over it. And maintaining full child custody? Hate to break it to you, friends, but the dealer’s not liking the odds on that.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have seriously bungled this one. Hand in the cookie pot, nose in the trash, this extramarital affair is another vintage Bill screwup. However you want to slice it, one thing’s a given: She got me fair and square. I made my bed, and it’s on the couch!
Trust is a difficult thing to repair. I’ll cool my heels for the time being, maybe see if ’ol Bill can’t patch a few of these leaks, because this thing is sinking fast, amigos. My wife doesn’t love me anymore, I’ve torn my family apart, and, wouldn’t you know it, I’m in the doghouse again!