For those of you who read about what my wife did to me in the story I Warned You, I'm here to let you know that I did not go gently into that good night.
For those of you who did not read that story, I'll give you a short synopsis. I work too damn hard and too damn many hours on my job. My home life sucks because I'm too damn tired from the job to give my wife the attention I want to give and get too many honey do lists finished.
The stress was getting to me so I decided to treat myself to some happy hour drinks. The problem is I tend to go overboard with everything I do and after a few weeks of drinking my wife, she warned me that if I didn't stop, I would suffer unknown consequences.
Everything went well for a few weeks until I decided to stop for a few drinks. Actually I had more than a few drinks and was forced to take a taxi home. I passed out drunk on the couch. When I woke up in need of a monster piss, I discovered my lovely wife super glued my penis northward to my belly! I had no choice but to walk into the shower and let loose with a piss that would put a Russian race horse to shame. Of course my wife was laughing her ass off the whole time.
I had to go to the hospital emergency room to get myself disconnected, as it were. The doctor had little difficulty getting me undone since super glue accidents happen more often than you would think. And believe it or not, I found out that the use of super glue to attached a husband's penis to his belly is not an uncommon event either.
Giving the medical staff one helluva laugh did make me feel good, but I definitely would've preferred it be for a totally different reason.
On the way home, I remembered my wife telling me a long time ago that she would do exactly what she did if I ever came home drunk.
To repeat Bugs Bunny ... This Means WAR! No not really, I always wanted to say that. But I'm definitely not taking this lying down. Come on, I work 13 hour days and I get this shit because I need to stop for a drink! Why the hell isn't my wife helping me with things? Why doesn't she understand I'm fucking stressed out and need some "ME" time? We're supposed to be a team dammit so why isn't she making me feel better?
As I pulled into my drive, a plan started to develop on how my wife was going to understand exactly how it feels to be under appreciated. I was almost smiling when I opened the door, but as I walked in my wife was sitting in the living room with some of her friends laughing their collective fat asses off.
Before the cackling hens realized I was there, I overheard their continued belittling of my glued manhood. Oh yeah, she's gonna pay.
When they finally noticed me standing there I had already poked myself in the eyes and forced a few tears down my cheeks. Suddenly things weren't so funny any more and they all looked very uncomfortable. My wife especially looked shocked when she seen me standing there.
Step one of my plan accomplished, I turned around and went upstairs to our bedroom. On the way up, I heard the woman start talking about what had just happened. I heard a few of them tell my wife she took things too far and she needed to apologize to me immediately.
Making into our bedroom, I initiated step two of my plan by noisily moving my clothes into the spare bedroom. During one of my trips, I caught my wife and a few of her friends standing at the bottom of the stairs wide eyed in disbelief. Internally I was smiling inside, but outside I looked like someone had just ran over my dog.
I heard the front door open and close a few times as all the visiting hens went back to their homes to do who knows what to their husbands. Maybe a few of them will be nicer since they realized what happens when you push things too far.
Three trips down and I was almost done. Turning around for the fourth trip I found my wife standing with a worried look on her face. I said nothing as I walked past her. The last thing she heard was me locking the bedroom door.
It was only a few minutes when I heard my wife knock on the door asking me to let her in. Like that was going to happen. More knocking, more asking for me to talk and more of me ignoring her. Soon the requests became louder and more demanding. Thirty minutes later they became more pleading. Eventually they stopped all together. I went to sleep with a smile on my face.
In the morning I was up and out of the house before she woke up. I still had 13 hours of hell to contend with with the bitch from hell. But instead of dealing with Satan's sister, I was met by her boss who wanted to talk to me.
Long story short, the bitch was fired and I was offered her job with an seriously nice pay raise. Along with the raise came some time off to recover from the months of busting my ass. I accepted the promotion and time off without hesitation. The best part was the time off started immediately!
God I couldn't wait to go home and tell my wife about our good fortune.
No, I couldn't do that just yet, could I? I still needed to make her understand she went too far with her stunt.
Today was my wife's day off so I wasn't surprised that her car was still in the drive. What I was surprised about was that when I walked in, I could tell she had been crying. When our eyes met I wondered if she would break down and apologize for what she did. Instead the shock of seeing me standing there brought questions why I was home so early. "What did you do?"
Oh yeah, it's on!
Step three, "I was fired." "What?!"
"The bitch got me fired." "Why? What did you do?"
I couldn't have set it up any better, "Why am I not surprised you would think that I did anything wrong? I'm just nothing but a fucking screw up to you aren't I? Well fuck you!" as I went back to my new bedroom.
She began knocking again calling my name repeatedly. I refused to open the door, but I did yell at her she had better take on more hours so we don't lose the house. Again I went to sleep with a smile on my face.
The next morning I went down for breakfast as my wife was pouring herself a cup of coffee. Initially I said nothing to her, but after she repeated her questions from last night I decided to answer them and continue with step three. Explaining that the bitch set me up for something I didn't do and the higher ups believed her instead of me.
My wife started to realized that I have been under considerable stress for a long time and her use of the super glue was uncalled for. I thought she might apologize to me, but she didn't. I guess I could understand that since she now had to worry about us paying our bills and losing our home.
She went off to work with what seemed like the weight of the world on her shoulders. Good. Time to know how it really feels.
I spent the day doing exactly what I was supposed to do, relax and recover from all those long months.
My wife came home to tell me she was allowed to take on more hours. She looked at me sheepishly when she asked me to help around the house since she was working more hours and would I be unable to do all the work she had normally done.
Man did her eyes go huge when I told her I would be glad to give her as much help as she did me these past months. There was almost recognition of "I'm in trouble" on her face when she realized the possible ramifications.
Her extra hours turned out to be ten hours shifts the first week then bumped up to 12 hour shifts on week two. Boy did she look tired. I gave her no sympathy.
By the third week she started to complain about being tired, not having time to do anything, not having a life and not having any fun. It also brought about step four. I started going at her about our lack of a sex and what was she going to do about it. Oh you bet I got the evil eye on that one.
What did surprise me was that the next night my wife didn't come home at her usual time. I waited for hours and was getting very worried. I was about to go out looking for her when she showed up smelling of alcohol. "Oh let the God's be praised. I got her!"
"Where the hell have you been and why do you smell like you've been drinking?"
She came right back at me about being stressed out and needing to let off a little steam. So when the girls at the office suggested a few drinks after work, she felt she was entitled.
"I see now. It's OK for you to do it but when it comes to me, I get in trouble. I'll remember that." As I turned around and walked away I mentioned it took me months before I needed to stop for a drink and it had only taken her three weeks. "Turn about is fair play. Remember that my dear wife." Her pleas to understand were ignored.
Now during this whole time I still refused to move back into the master bedroom and spoke to her only when needed and then it was mostly grunts. I probably would have stopped all this foolishness if she would at least apologize to me for her lack of understanding and use of super glue. But since she didn't...