My wife laughs in her sleep. A lot. Sometimes she wakes herself up. I ask, “What’s so funny?” She answers with a sweet grin, “Oh, nothing…” Then she goes back to sleep.
Maybe she was recalling the “Spider Incident of 2008”. I was in the bathroom and turned to leave, when I saw a spider in between me and the door. I froze; terrified. I tried to scream for help but could only whisper loudly, help, heeelp! I stared at the arachnid for some thirty minutes, fearful that it would pounce at my neck, or eyes. Then I thought maybe it was an ant. Whew… I sprang over the ant-thing, running down the hallway shrieking. A few minutes later my wife came into the bedroom, spotted me behind the dresser, my usual hiding spot, and said, “It’s only fuzz.” She lowered her open hand so I could see. “Oh…” I said, clutching a clean pair of underpants, “I guess I will go change then.”
Or maybe she is still amused with my love for science. I am, after all, a man born of the French Revolution and the early Italian Renaissance.
Once or twice a week I go to the backyard with my telescope to observe the stars. Starology has been a love of mine for many years. My telescope is made from a Pringles can. I made it when I was five. Someday my son will use this very scope for his experiments. He loves Pringles too.
One starry night, I was observing Canis Major, when I heard a dog bark. In fact, every time I looked at Sirius a dog would bark. Space dogs! I discovered space dogs! They’re hard to see at night, they must be black, I surmised, jotting notes in my space book.
I had every intention of making contact. I had to be the first one to make contact so I could name them, Marcus Barkus Astrocanineicus. I was close to them; they trusted me, but I needed to entice them. I began to throw large Milkbone dog treats into the night sky, hoping they would land, or just let me see them.
That’s when the trouble started. One night the police did a tactical entry around both sides of my house, maced me and threw me to the ground.
I found out later that one of the Milkbones went through a neighbor’s window. Since it was after midnight they called the police, who took me for “some kind of nut job”. (Their words.)
The Chief of Police settled out of court awarding me several hundred dollars. I spent it on science. I spent it on duct tape and Pringles. I now have a telescope that is twenty feet long.
I am forbidden to throw dog bones. But if you drive by my house late at night, you’ll see me in the back yard with Galileo 1, my telescope, and a pound of bacon on the grill. They’re out there you know. I can hear them.
I can’t be too sure, but perhaps she is thinking of our honeymoon.
My wife is Jewish, but raised baptist. I thought she would enjoy my costume.
On this wonderful night, while she changed into her lingerie, I went into the bathroom and changed into my Moses costume: wild, grey wig, long wild beard; potato sack with head and arm holes cut in. I also wore a string of blinking Christmas lights. I meant it as a sign of respect, that our marriage is a union, like the Old and New Testaments with the Christmas lights representing the Holy Spirit.
When I came out of the bathroom she screamed and threw magazines, pillows and an ash tray at me–she thought a crazy man had broken in. When I took off the beard she fainted.
After the paramedics left, the police wrote me a ticket for indecent exposure; my potato sack was too short.
Later she admitted to enjoying the evening, penisly speaking.
Or maybe it was the “Pancake and Methodists” incident…