TMI Thursday: I Can Feel It, Coming in the Air at Night. Oh No.

If this does not sate your thirst for awesome TMI stories, then check out all the other glorious tales of things we probably shouldn't tell at LiLu's home for the staunchy raunchy, TMI Thursdays!

Did you see how long that shit yesterday was? Heh. I say that to my wife nearly every day. She still hasn't cracked a smile.

Anyway, that was a long post that took me several days to compose. Sorry that there were a few typos. By the time I was finished, my frontal lobe felt like grape jelly and my eyes were threatening to turn themselves inside out. But, hey, a few of you felt nice, and that was the idea.

Since yesterday's post was so long, I decided I'll give you a short one today. Sorry. I suck, I know. But it's still plenty juicy.

Despite my girthy girthiness, I do eat, from time to time, something other than cake and bacon. In fact, one of my favorite treats of all time is those dried apricot things. Jesus, I love them. I think most of the charm is that they have the size and consistency akin to a small child's ear. They're chewy and sweet and--dammit, if the kids weren't in bed while I'm writing this, I'd head on down to the store and get a box.

Here's another gory secret from my life: sometimes, there actually is trouble in paradise around the old Jenks Household. Sometimes, I get mad at my wife and we do things like raise our voices and stare daggers at one another and talk sarcastically in a tone mockingly imitative of the other. It's true. The ugly side of paradise.

Being as how I'm not one of the wife-beatin' types (despite living in North Carolina, you know, the Fun Carolina), I have to exact my revenge in certain different ways.

This is where the apricots come in.

Have you ever read the package? Do you see what they are preserved with? Sulfur dioxide. It's a nice little preservative; it keeps the apricots good and stale and elasticy, kind of like eating peach rubber bands. However, the true glory of the preservative is that it turns to hydrogen sulfide in your stomach. This gives a beautiful rotten eggs smell.

So, sometimes, when I'm mad at my wife, I'll go to the store and buy a package of the apricots, especially if I know she's going to be working that night. I'll come home and pound a few of them. Unfortunately, the effects usually don't happen the same night that I eat the apricots, so a couple of days after the fight, I'll finally settle in and be good and ripe. Those are the nights when I go to bed before she comes home, and I'll pull the covers up real tight around my body and keep still. I'll read a book or watch tv or something. All the while, I'm turning the atmosphere green beneath the covers. Not only that, but the foulness just sits down there and ferments. After a couple of hours, it's positively toxic.

Coincidentally, that's about the time she'll come home with a big smile on her face because she's so happy to see me and happy that we're no longer fighting. She'll bounce into the room, strip down, get her pajamas on, and then throw back the covers on the bed...only to be punched in the face with the smell of some infernal alchemical brew that will cause her eyes to water and her throat to seal shut so that it doesn't have to take that besmirched air into her body.

Click on the cartoon to make it bigger.
As she's standing there, retching and gagging, trying desperately to draw clean, fresh air into her lungs before she passes out, I'll look over, innocent as a child, and say, "How was your night, honey?"

Oh sure, I've delayed the make-up sex by a couple of days...but don't they always say revenge is a dish best served cold? Or two days later amidst a foul-smelling miasma of death and destruction? I thought so.