By The Hairy Beast
“I know you bought the chinese food, I didn’t think the goddam Chinese Food Fairy flitted by and SHIT Pu Pu Platters all over the kitchen table!” I yelled. My wife, perched like a toad on the mushroom-tan colored living room sofa, wore her trademark look of innocent confusion. I tried again, my blood pressure rising as I battered myself against the dense calluses that surrounded the clot of random impulses and animal cunning that passed for her mind. “That was NOT the question! The question is, where did you get the money to to buy all this stuff? It’s two days before payday and I know you spend my paycheck a week before I even get it and there must be a hundred bucks worth of this stuff!”
She lit a butt and inhaled calmly. A languid wisp of smoke escaped from her lips and made for freedom. It wafted past one nostril, which suddenly flared and sucked the errant wisp back in.
“I paid for it with the check that came today.” she said.
“The one for two thousand dollars.”
I put my head in my hands. This was going to be a long haul.