‘HUSBAND SURVIVAL KIT.’
It’s a misunderstanding.
Inside were nail clippers, detergent, a cookbook, and a note.
“Congratulations! Your free trial of having a wife has expired.”
Mike snorted.
“Very funny,” Robert muttered.
“Three simple tasks,” I said. “Unless you’re worried?”
‘HUSBAND SURVIVAL KIT.’
Robert glanced at our department director. “Fine!”
I handed him the clippers. “First, your toenails.”
“Right now?”
“You were happy to let me do them.”
Robert bent forward. “Why won’t these open?”
Three simple tasks.
“Try the lever,” Susan suggested.
“I KNOW!”
He flipped it backward.
The clippers snapped shut.
Mike whispered, “First opponent defeated him.”
First, your toenails.
Robert tossed them aside. “I’ll do it later!”
“Next, ironing.”
I handed him a shirt.
He fetched the iron and dragged it across the fabric.
Susan frowned. “Robert, it’s not turned on.”
First opponent defeated him.
“I was about to!” He examined the dial. “Which setting?”
“Check the label,” I said.
