'What are you going on about?' she said, while nonchalantly opening the front-seat passenger door of our Toyota RAV.
Until this point, it had been a typical Friday morning: a 30-minute, high-intensity workout on my static exercise bicycle in our garage, the exertion of which – according to Mrs Jones – sounds like I’m buggering a pig, particularly one with a tight, serrated arsehole; a shower and shave while belting out a tuneless rendition of Mr Tambourine Man; slipping into my favourite black Wranglers, skin tight so as to achieve an agreeably warm hold on my nether regions while allowing me to maintain the delusion that my compressed 57-year-old butt could attract female attention; and then it was off to Tesco supermarket to complete the weekly shop.
Grocery mission accomplished, we exited through the automatic doors and into the carpark. I’m proud of our new car. So while Mrs Jones pushed the supermarket trolley containing eight hefty bags of shopping, I played around with my fob-key, one press for unlock and a second to automatically raise the hatch-back door, both operations delivered from a distance of 30 yards, no less - I do hope somebody was watching. When we reached the rear of the car, being a gentleman with traditional values, I offered to take on the job of loading the car boot (trunk).
The luggage space is a deep one on a Toyota RAV so it required a 90-degree bend to push the heaviest bag into the far corner of the recess. While in this vulnerable, submissive position (with pouting buttocks straining to greet fellow shoppers and torso immersed in the depths of the boot) I heard a whirring noise; someone had pressed the key fob and the hatch-back door had started to close. Images pushed into my mind of being guillotined at the waist, with my severed legs twitching on the floor like a scene from some gruesome horror movie. I sharply retreated from the bowels of the boot only to strike my head on the descending door.
So who was responsible for my near-death experience? Despite my wife's protestations, I still harbour my suspicions. Two electronic key fobs lurked in the vicinity of the car that morning, one in Mrs Jones’ possession and the other safely ensconced in the front pocket of my tackle-hugging Wranglers.
I’m off now to check whether she’s bumped up the value of my life-assurance policy.
Hahahaha I love how you infuse trivial life experiences with a touch of humour, they seem like scenes out of sit-com shows!ReplyDelete
Also, I'd side with the tight trousers on this one :P
You ladies tend to stick together! Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment.Delete
Still trying to get my head around that pig buggering image.ReplyDelete
Shall I ask my wife to provide further clarification?Delete
LMAO Baby got back!! Work it boy.ReplyDelete
Glad that it amused you, although not surprised as we do tend to be on the same wavelength.Delete
I'm guessing it was the tight trousers. But then you know your wife better than I do.ReplyDelete
Not sure I do, Stephen - I suspect there are a few sides of her I've yet to see!Delete
I would have loved to see the smirk on Mrs. Jones' face. :)ReplyDelete
I'm sure it was there - if fact, if I recall, I did (in the midst of my trauma) hear hysterical laughter.Delete
Yup, she's trying to put you six feet under. Or get a good laugh at your expense.ReplyDelete
You. Crack. Me. Up.
Especially because Mr. Liverpool would say the same thing about me!! Mrs. Jones and I have much in common.
I always leave the laundry basket out near the steps and he says, "Kim, one day, you will Kill me!"
I don't get why he doesn't see it. Dumb ass.
Nice butt btw!! haaa
Your generous comments are much appreciated - in fact your 'nice butt' observation will make a vain man very happy for weeks to come!Delete
OK, I'm done laughing now. I read this yesterday but snickered and smiled until now so I'm good to post a comment. I read it to hubby - yep, it was funny! He said he's unlocked things with his keys in tight jeans so I bet you didn't find any outrageous insurance policy!! VERY funny!ReplyDelete
Yes, tight jeans and key fobs are a potentially lethal combination. I'm pleased it amused you and your spouse. Take care.Delete
I've been in that position, just as you described, to get the first grocery bags further in. And also remotely opening the door from a distance. My next shopping trip will surely make me think of this post!ReplyDelete
As for your wife's possible motives... surely your Wrangler clad, compressed rear end still has her hot for you. I vote that she's not ready to off you yet.
Your reassurance about my wife's psyche is much appreciated. Thank you.ReplyDelete
This has the makings of a truly great whodunit mystery. We just need a few more characters and a twist ending. Thanks for a good laugh!ReplyDelete
A bit like a modified version of Cluedo (Clue) board game? 'The tight trousers did it in the supermarket car park'Delete
Yep, it was the Wranglers, ha-ha! Sorry it has taken me so long to get over here--Mom is finally recovering so I'm trying to get caught up on my blog reading!ReplyDelete
No problem, Marcia - so pleased to hear that your mum is on the mend.ReplyDelete