I always wonder if the pads are for her protection or the walls?

Professor Ambrose Penwose, Kiwi

With Christmas a mere few days away I suppose its time for me to shuffle on down to the quiet part of town and make my annual pilgrimage to visit my Xwife. They say she looks forward to my visits, but really, what do they know?

I always feel a bit uncomfortable there. Her room is very clean and tidy, and her jacket snuggly wrapped nice and “straight.” The jacket is for my protection and they keep her on a short leash. I always wonder if the pads are for her protection or the walls?

She always asks for her favorite dolly, and I don’t have the heart to tell her it was devoured years ago, after she was taken away, when I gave it to her mother as a chew toy.

She always gazes at me with an evil stare and I wonder if she is undressing me with her eyes or skinning me?

I remember the good times we had before she snapped. That was one of the happiest days of my life.

Truth be known I am not entirely innocent of her insanity. I remember I had gone down to the pub in the village to have a few brewskis, throw a few darts, and shoot a few bulls. It occurred to me to fetch her a gift.

Once home I said to her, “Put down the plow for a moment and listen to this…I’m afraid I’ve caused a bit of a ruckus and the townspeople are headed up the hill with pitchforks and torches.”

“Eh?”

“I went into the emporium and told the girl I wanted to buy a few things for my wife’s craft.”

She asked, “Which craft?”

I said, “Yes!”

Penwose Out,
By George
NoPo8