I come home from work and see that my beautiful wife has been burnt to a crisp by Mr. Sun.
| me (head): | “Christ. Every fuckin' year. We have to say something.” |
| me: | “Nice.” |
| Sherry: | (feigning ignorance) “What.” |
| me (head): | “And here we go...” |
| me: | “How's that sunscreen? Is it still in the bottle?” |
| Sherry: | “I used it. I swear!” |
| me (head): | “Say something sarcastic. Something witty!” |
| me: | “Right.” |
| me (head): | “See, this is why we never win arguments with her.” |
| Sherry: | “Ask the kids.” |
| Oldest Son: | “Dad, she put it on. I saw her. She put it on herself after she put it on us.” |
| Sherry: | (grinning like an idiot) “See?” |
| me (head): | “First rule of Parent Fight Club: don't involve the kids.” |
| me: | “So you put it on and then...what? You took a shower?” |
| Sherry: | “It must have washed off in the pool.” |
| me: | “Really. If that's the case, then the kids should be burnt as well.” |
| Sherry: | “I don't know. It doesn't matter. I'm not like you. This will turn into a nice tan in two days.” |
| me (head): | “That's why she does it. Every fuckin' year. Say something. Let her know that we're on to her.” |
| me: | “I'm gonna play Quake now.” |
And so my thoughts are littered with images of Sherry at the beach with her grandchildren.
Mmmmm. GILF.
