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Badgered In Baltimore
Badgered In Baltimore
Dear Blabby,
My bride of forty-five years has a cow whenever she suspects me of catting around. She calls me a little weasel and a snake in the grass. I try to answer, but I'm ordered to clam up. She's such a pest, asking me all the time about my sheepish grin.
Blabby, it hurts when she calls me a leach and a sloth just because I choose not to work. She complains that while she’s a busy as a bee all day long, I’m just a degenerate wolf, hitting on dumb bunnies every night. She says I’m an ape and am as dumb as an ox. She accuses me of treating our marriage like it was a lark. She screams at me, calling me an ass and a cheating rat.
Yesterday I really lost it. I told her that I was not some dirty, mangy dog. I called her a shrew and that I was a scapegoat in her kangaroo court.
Blabby, why must she be so catty? She’s a prying old bloodhound. Should I simply tell her to bug off?
Just now my wife called me a slimy worm. She says my behavior lately seems very fishy. She accuses me of having a whale of a time while we’ve become as poor as church mice. The worst part is that, in order to pay our rent, we’re forced to look for a loan shark.
Blabby, I’m afraid my goose is cooked. She’s threatening to stone me to death! What am I to do?
Badgered in Baltimore
Dear Badgered,
When the rocks start flying—Duck!
7/26/22
Copyright ©
Robert Gorelick
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