Dangerspouse Rides Again

Get your own
diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

Garage - Track

Nov. 01, 2004 - 11:09 a.m.

I Want Candy!


Ok, so you know how I previously wrote that NewWifey(tm) could sniff out a chocolate bar hidden under 15 metric tons of raw sewage and glowing Chernobyl corpses?


Wheee heeee, I just wrote that to throw NewWifey(tm) off the trail. I knew she was gonna read my latest entry, and if I said anything other than "I give up. NewWifey(tm) could find a Hershey Bar on the moon if I hid it there.", she'd duct tape me down and clamp a Clairol Curling Iron onto my earlobe til I talked.


I got away with it! It was the perfect crime!!

Get this: I had a diversionary bag of chocolates - smaller than the real bag, but not so small as to be suspect - hidden in the BBQ grill on the back porch. I left a *tiny* bit of the orange plastic bag poking out, knowing she would home in on it like a Polar Bear pouncing on a carelessly attired Halloweenie.

Sure enough, she spotted it through the bathroom window while taking her morning shower and immediately dashed naked down the hall, out the back door, and across the wooden deck to The Goods. She ate two Twix Bars and a Milky Way right there in the buff before clamping the bag in her teeth like a lioness moving her cub, then stalked back to the bathroom with it. I stayed out of her way.

Before we even had dinner it was reduced to a sad pile of wrappers and saliva stains.
I *think* it was saliva.

Meanwhile, the real bag of chocolates - the 15 pound monster purchased at the EconoPricePlusClub - was bungeed to the inside of the left rear wheel well of the Mighty WRX!!

For three solid days I drove 15mph under the speed limit, detouring around road kill, potholes, and anything else that might compress my suspension. I even got some of that expensive Cougar Pee Spray to keep marauding wildlife from tearing open the bag during the overnights. Hey, female raccoons and skunks get PMS too, right? Better safe than sans chocolate.

So yesterday, Halloween, NewWifey(tm) came bursting into the Man Pit where I was playing Xenosaga (PS2) and wailed at me, "Honey, we ate all the chocolate and now we don't have any chocolate left and the kids are gonna start showing up any second and what are we gonna doooooo!?"

"We" ate all the chocolate? I was terrified of just cleaning up the shredded wrappers left in her wake, for fear she'd think I was trying to purloin an actual Kit-Kat and disembowel me to get it back.

I didn't say a word, just hit the Pause button and walked out to my car. Five minutes later I strolled back in and casually heaved the 15-pound sack onto the coffee table.

Her eyes boggled, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.

"You...HID CHOCOLATE FROM ME?? Why, you motherfucking, pustule ridden, half human, lying sack of soon-to-be-ex-husband shit! Where the HELL did you hide all this?...and...why does the bag smell like cat pee...? I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!!"

Since I started this diary just over a year ago, NewWifey(tm) has suffered some pretty hideous indignities as a result of my actions. She was arrested while driving topless with her hands manacled together because I had brought the handcuffs' keys to work with me; I was arrested for peeping in on a Ladies' Dressing Room and she had to bail me out; she was stranded in a Home Depot parking lot for hours after I didn't bring the keys to her; I ruined all her panties while trying to repair damage the dog did to them; she got plastered in feathers when I exploded our good down comforter, etc., etc., etc.

But I have never, EVER, seen her so mad as when yesterday she discovered that I hid chocolate! from her. Seriously, this level of rage wasn't generated by the Democrats in 2000 towards Ralph Nader and Katherine Harris combined. I thought I was going to spontaneously combust.

Luckily for me and my still intact skeleton, the first 7 year old Spiderman of the evening rang our bell just then. NewWifey(tm)'s eyes dimmed to their normal color, her breathing gradually slowed to a human rate, and mustering every ounce of self control she had left she walked stiff legged to the door.

"Oh, look at you! You are so precious!! That is just the cutest costume - did your Mommy make it for you?"

The kid shook his head. "Mommy says God hates children who go Trick-or-Treating. But Daddy told me I could go while she was at Al-Anon, because God would be watching her and not me then. He had the costume in his glove compartment and I changed in the car."

NewWifey(tm) stared at him, then managed a stammering "Well...it's a very nice costume. Have a Happy Halloween!" and she started to close the door.

"Um...Miss?" the kid hurredly piped up. "Could I...could I have a piece of candy...?"

NewWifey(tm) looked down at the 3-Muskateers Bar she still had clamped in her fist. It had been taken it out of the bowl, but she never loosened her grip to drop it in the kid's plastic pumpkin. There was a tense moment where I thought NewWifey(tm) was gonna snap and slam the door in the kid's face, then retreat to a corner and stuff the entire thing in her mouth, paper and all.

But slowly...slowly...I saw the veins in her right arm become less defined as the tension in her hand relaxed. Spidey kept his gaze fixed on the chocolate, holding his breath. Finally, with a soft, wet sound, gravity peeled the bar from her sweating palm and it disappeared into the riot of candy below. For a split second I thought NewWifey(tm) was going to dive in after it, but she got ahold of herself and managed to straighten up. She took a deep breath, waved to the kid, and closed the door softly. She didn't turn around.

It was like watching Bilbo cough up the One Ring to Gandalf at the beginning of "Fellowship".

We didn't say much after that. Eventually she resigned herself to the fact that the chocolate was for the kiddies, not her. But it was a painful epiphany. We sat and waited for the hordes to come and deplete our stock further.....

And waited.


Jesus H. WesCraven Christ, where was everyone? Since our first little DYFS case, not one bum, princess, or Harry Potter had rung our bell! And we had been sitting there an hour.

I leaned out our bay window and peered up the block. Sure enough, a steady stream of wildly attired ragamuffins trooped up the Wechler's front steps to claim their booty there, then across the street to grab more sweets at the Simmon's place.

Then, each and every group stopped. They looked down the hill towards Dangerhouse, and decided that the walk back up the steep incline would burn more calories than the Snickers Bar they would get. It wasn't worth the effort.

We had five kids show up between 4 and 10 pm.


That's less than one an hour.

We had 4/5 of a child knock on our door every 60 minutes.

...and we gave close to a pound and a half of chocolate to each one for taking their trouble.

When we finally dimmed the porch light it was hours after my bedtime. There was still a good 5 pounds worth of miniature chocolate bars left in the bowl next to the front door. I made to gather it all up so I could put them into a cannister and hit the sack.

"Do. NOT. Touch. The. Chocolate."

I turned and looked at NewWifey(tm), who was poised tensely just behind me. Veins were standing out again not only on her arms, but her neck and forehead too. The color in her face was drained to an ashen paste, and her pupils were reduced to pinpricks. Her breath came irregular and raspy.

"Keep your god damn hands off that chocolate. Or I will never let you fuck me again, mister. Ever. Do you understand? DO YOU?!"

I sure didn't consider that much of it as a threat, since I wasn't sure I wanted to fuck her ever again. I would have felt safer plunging my dick into an Insinkerator at that point. Seeing her standing there like Carrie in her Prom Blood, the libido just drained out of me for some reason.

But I nodded anyway. Every now and then my Self Preservation Mechanism manages to overide my Immediate Retardedness Reaction, and now it saved my ass big time. I backed away from the chocolates and went to bed.

This morning when my alarm clocked zapped me back to life at 1:30am, I awoke to an empty bed. Normally no matter how drunk, crazed or enraged, NewWifey(tm) always manages to find her way back under our down comforter and warm her cold feet between my butt cheeks before falling asleep (you can get used to anything after a while, I guess). But not this time.

I grabbed my robe and walked out to the living room. On the sofa a pair of feet stuck out from under a pile of yellow, blue, and white striped wrappers. At the other end of the sofa some papers were fluttering above her gently snoring breath.

I cleared the wrappers above her airway and went to work.

And now I'm home.

No sign of the wrappers, or any leftovers (of course). Just a note tacked to the fridge:

Honey, could you go to the store and pick me up a Hershey Bar before I get home? Thanks. Luv Ya!

So, um, I've got to go. Now.





Like most folk in the US this past week, I have been recieving phone calls from celebrities and Bigwig luminaries on behalf of one political slimeball or another (I think the messages are taped, btw). As annoyed as I am by the constant unsolicited barrage, I think I'm more indignant that these highly paid consultants and think-tanks can't come up with better celebrity endorsers for their Puppet In Chief hopeful. If I were to run a campaign, the first person I'd sign would be Paul Rubens: "HIYO! This is PeeWee Herman! Do you know how good it feels to go into a dark room in the middle of a crowd and pull your lever? DO YOU? HUH? DO YOU? Well I do, and you can too this Tuesday November 2nd if you vote for...." You get the idea. I think it would be much more effective than listening to Wesley Clark drone on, for all his respectible gravitas.



Speaking of November 2nd, it's right around the corner. Like, tomorrow.

Now listen. This is important:


You heard me.


Not if you want to be a True American, anyway. In 2000, less than 30% of the American public bothered to show up at the polls. That means that more than 70% of the people stayed home and watched re-runs of Full House.

This country was founded on the tenet of Majority Rule. So if the majority of the American Public don't vote, then that should be the rule for all. By voting, you are defying our Democratic principle. Stay home tomorrow and show the world that the Rule of the Majority still holds sway here!

Oh, and in case you're gonna be a stinkin' Commie and vote anyway: it doesn't matter. More people voted for the loser last time than the winner. So see where it gets you?

Stay home and eat chocolate.

If you can keep it away from your wife......


about me - read my profile! read other DiaryLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!