A Rewarded Plea

For two weeks my wife has nagged at me to mow the grass. “Two weeks!” I said, “That can’t be right,” but time does quickly pass. So to get back in her good books, I had to make a solemn vow, that I will mow the grass tomorrow, because I’m watching telly now. She mumbled something ‘neath her breath like I’ve often heard her do, and I gather that she called me lazy between the odd choice word or two. But a bloke is entitled to unwind by relaxing with the TV. I just wish she’d get up off her backside and start preparing me tea. To drop a hint I pushed on the remote, flicked the telly on to S-B-S, because I know the programs on there to the wife don’t really impress. But the program that’s currently aired, is deemed as a medical show where the patients are on life support … kept alive and don’t even know. I said to me dear darling wife indicating on to the screen, “I don’t want to live in a vegetable state, dependent upon a machine.” So without one word she stood up. I thought she was gunna get tea, but she walked the opposite way, and unplugged the bloody TV.