Tuesday, March 20, 2012

One Confession

One confession.
(To you professional writers out there who got me into this silly thing, I apologize in advance for this post, please be nice in the comments.)

It was a dark and stormy night. The pitter patter of raindrops was punctuated with a blinding flash and the rumble of thunder. The wind could be heard whining and moaning through the exhaust vent as we both stood there looking at the crime scene.
                "Why did you do it." She demanded of me, standing there in her bath robe.
                "Just what are you talking about?" I replied in a tone of voice I usually reserved for small children who are unusually dense. "I heard you screech out and thought you were being attacked by a vampire or something".
                "You know exactly what I am talking about, there isn’t anyone else with access to this room", she countered with hands on hips and a snarl in her voice.
During the next lightning flash I glanced around the room, taking in the usual collection of implements and products designed for some sort of female ritual or diabolical torture. Everything was in its place, as near as I could tell, but with the thunder in her eyes I knew the storm was not the most dangerous thing in the area.
                "Ok, its 3am and I’m jolted from sleep, I don’t think we are communicating very well here. Do you think you can take it from the top and explain to me just what I am guilty of?"
                "Give me your hand", she stated.
                "Why" I replied
                "Just do it",
                "Ok, now what"
At this point she proceeded to take my hand and guide it, down, down to the bottom of her robe where I felt that it was dripping wet.
                With a glimmer of hope that this situation could turn out to my benefit, I asked with the utmost of sincerity "What happened to you? Are you ok?"
                "I fell in you asshole! Some jerk left the seat up again!" Her whiplash reply dashed any thoughts of a late night rondevu.
At this point in a married mans life you come to the realization that anything you say, is wrong, dead wrong. My first thought was to deny any knowledge, because honestly I have no recollection of perpetrating the crime.
Everyone should know that marriage is all about trust and sharing. She trusted that the seat would be down and now she will not be sharing for quite some time.
To make a long story even longer I will make my one confession.
                "Honey, I am so sorry but yes, it was I who left the toilet seat up!"


  1. Excellent story. And not too overly sarcastic! I think you should submit it to Reader's Digest.

    Roger, you surprised me when you agreed to play along with this exercise. I'm glad you did. I feel like I know you significantly better now.

  2. Thank you for inviting me, it was entertaining. Perhaps I will stretch out a bit more in the future..