I just had to share the latest news.
Husband left me this morning. For a mermaid! That salty bitch is off teaching him how to hold his breath underwater and making plans to build a cozy cottage under the see as I type this.
I can’t believe the nerve of some people!
They met in a chatroom for fetishist wanting to hook up with sentient aquatic life. Apparently, her ex was a dolphin named Phil who was a member of the notorious Bermuda Triangle Mafia (BMT), until an anonymous tip by–you guessed it–husband got him arrested and sent to Sea World, sentenced to a life of performing demeaning tricks for sweaty tourists…
I’m so tempted to inform the BMT of this little tryst…
The thing is, I’m not mad about him leaving. I figured it might happen eventually, what with his ice cream sandwich addiction and my propensity for all-night Scrabble benders, but it’s the principle of the thing, to leave me right after we got the glorious news:
I’m expecting again!
I’m still excited, but I don’t know how I’m going to care for Luna, Freya, and the nonuplets without him.
I’m trying to think of names, you know: as a distraction. But I can’t think of anything fitting.
To be honest, I’m a little concerned and intimidated. Since he left me I’m just gonna put this out there: there’s a chance the babies aren’t even his.
Now, before you chide me, I never cheated on him. But about a week after we had that orgy with Vishnu, Aries, and Yoda, a witch doctor contacted me via transcendental meditation and said I would birth nine very angry, very short, atypically pigmented, and poly limbed demigods with midichlorian counts that were off the charts and that, basically, my nine sons would be solely responsible for the downfall of man.
I mean, at the time I figured the old man was drunk on palm wine. But now…
Ripping Up The Carpet (This Part’s NOT an April Fooling)
Anime Shop in Fort Smith, Arkansas, AR, on Otaku Wanted.