Preposterous!

All great things come to an end. Today the good lady had the whip out. Not the top sauce kind that involves her dressing like a rabbit but instead the chores whip.

It didn't start that way, however, oh no.

In the morning I got up and had breakfast with the family. Like any bloke does I hid the pain and the suffering from the previous night's birthday celebrations so as to maintain maximum mannity. Whilst I crunched on some exceedingly dry toast which went well with my dried up insides, the good lady became all chatty.

You don't seem very hungover?

She enquired.

Oh, nah, I'm not. You know me ladychick. The beer machine.

I lied, whilst my dessicated insides groaned and creaked.

Did you have a lot to drink?

Not really, just a few beers.

I lied again, whilst in my head, the tsunami of last nights beer retreated leaving just empty bottles and shot glasses glittering on the shores of my memory.

Did you get in late?

She enquired with a kind face.

No, I don't think it was too late. It was all fairly civilised.

Civilised eh?

She remarked with what could almost be described as a smirk.

Yes, civilised.

She was being a little obtuse I felt. Although I did have a nagging feeling of something being slightly amiss. I dismissed it with a mental flourish.

How was your kebab?

She threw at me from left field.

Uumm, it was fine. Yes, it was fine.

I lied with a mild desperation. What kebab? I don't remember a kebab. Dang. I must have been a little more stocious than I remembered. Hmmm, perhaps that was the problem. My memories toward the end of the night were indeed a little hazy.

And the snow, that snow was wild eh?

Wild snow? What was she talking about? I could see out the window, there was no snow? Although now that she mentioned it, something about snow tickled my memory.

At least by going straight to bed you will have gotten lots of quality sleep!

She exclaimed as if her best cow had just won a prize.

Erm, yeeeees. I suppose so.

I suspected I might be in trouble. I couldn't really remember getting home. Always a tricky situation.

She stood up and swept her arm towards the sofa behind us.

So you didn't come rolling in the door at three AM shouting about the Damn Snow with a kebab in your hand. Nor did you spill said kebab all over the floor to the sofa. Nor would you have then sprinkled little bits of kebab meat around you whilst attempting, I presume, to put bits of it in your mouth?

I made a face and squirmed in my chair as if lifting a bum cheek to let a cheeky out.

And of course you didn't fall asleep on said sofa and I didn't have to get up at 4AM to come down and rouse you up and into your bed? Which was comedy in itself.

I decided there was only one way out.

Of course not milady, how preposterous to even suggest such a chain of events!

She smiled.

Well I am glad you enjoyed it.

Then the chores came but I didn't mind. A hazy memory and a kebab is always worth it.