Oh my poor wife. Why in the hell did I eat all those pickled eggs? Now here I lie, on my side (can’t be on my distended belly or on my aching back) on our bed, hoping I don’t wake her, despite the stink.
From my belly is the slow rolling thunder of an imminent downpour. If all that hasn’t woken her yet (and that includes my piteous moans), hopefully she’ll stay asleep as I make my way to the downstairs bathroom. That will spare assaulting her nose.
All I need to do is avoid the creaky floorboard…
*Creak*
Damn.
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