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I had a rough week at work. I was complaining to my husband that I had to juggle work with taking the dog out, cooking every meal, paying the bills, grocery shopping, laundry, and pretty much everything else it takes to keep the household running smoothly. My husband said to me in his most convincing used car salesman voice,"honey, I don't want you to be stressed out. What can I do to help?" I said, "well, I think it would be a big help if you took the dog out twice a day. That will only take a minute of your time, and he's always there to remind you". He said "great! I will do that. You don't ever have to think about that again."
Fast forward two months later: I took the dog out twice yesterday, because I don't want my baby to be in pain. When Happy has to pee, he shakes and paws at my legs. How could I deny him that? I would never hurt my dog to spite my husband. I would like to kick my husband in the balls, though. This morning, my husband was walking out the door after eating his homemade pistachio cake for breakfast, with his lunch bag in hand, which I had prepared for him earlier with pizza sandwiches on homemade italian bread , homemade cookies, homemade lasagna, and rinsed grapes. I said "Are you going to take the dog out?" He said "oh, come ON! I'm going to work to make money. Why do you bitch right before I leave for work?"
All of the aggravation resulting from his false promises and incompassionate, self-gratifying attitude caused my foot to involuntarily raise itself at warp speeds towards his balls, which exploded upon contact. The end.
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