Fuming because her husband was late for dinner again, a wife decided to execute a reckless plan of marital espionage. She scribbled a dramatic note and left it on the dresser: “I’ve had enough. I’m leaving you. Don’t look for me.”
Then, she crammed herself entirely under the bed to watch his heartbreak firsthand.
When her husband finally walked into the bedroom, he spotted the note. He read it, calmly scribbled something on the bottom of the paper, and then pulled out his phone.
“Hey babe? Jackpot—the old lady finally packed up and left,” he chuckled into the receiver. “I know, about damn time! Put on that sexy French nightie, I’m driving over right now. Can’t wait for some naughty fun.”
He hung up, grabbed his car keys, and sped away.
Seething with white-hot rage and tears stinging her eyes, the wife dragged herself out from under the mattress. Ready to hire the most ruthless divorce lawyer in town, she snatched the note to see what the monster had written.
In his messy handwriting, it read:
“I can see your feet. We’re out of bread. Back in five minutes.”
