Last week, fifty-year-old Larry Spurling of Melbeta, Nebraska, was beyond angry at his wife. Using logic worthy of George Wickham, Larry said that she made him live in the country, and he was bored “since there is no place to walk.” Excuse me, Larry, but DUH! You are in the country, which is by definition, the best place to walk, and if you had been my husband, I would certainly have told you to take a hike.
Larry’s wife, obviously the brains of the family (not a characteristic which Lydia could claim), abandoned the argument and went to their bedroom with a sandwich. Sounds odd to me, but perhaps the sandwich was better company than her husband. The husband, drunk on a malt liquor called (I’m not making this up) Natty Daddy, followed her, pulled her hair, pushed her down on the bed, and (release that breath you’ve been holding) stuffed the sandwich in her face. The man assaulted his wife with a sandwich!
His wife, again the grown-up in the room (definitely not a Lydia), called 911, and the police arrived to find lunch meat (Salami? Bologna? Inquiring minds want to know!) and bread crumbs littering the room. The husband (still a Wickham) was outside, face down in the grass, about ten feet from the house. I have no picture of the assault because the assaultee had already washed the remaining evidence from her face.
Larry pleaded no contest to disturbing the peace and was sentenced to five days in jail.
I hope that sandwiches are not on the menu.