Rick Ames was awakened at four in the morning by the sound of his wife, Janet, taking a letter. ``I swear, honey,'' he said, ``ever since you took that job as a secretary I haven't had the peace of a single moment. That a single moment gives. If you aren't filing reports, you're on the phone or making coffee, and now you're taking a letter! It has just got to stop. People are starting to ask questions -- and not just rhetorical ones; these I am afraid I or someone designated by me or someone else entirely, but someone; someone nearby who could very well have better things to do -- someone must take the time to answer: and yet answers are not forthcoming. Relying on book-knowledge was a mistake -- no standard domestic reference works are comprehensive enough to cover this situation.''
Janet said nothing but shook her head with such force that all her hairs were pulled six inches out of her skull. Then they snapped back with unprecedented force. ``Ow!''
``Okay, this is terrible, right?'' exclaimed Rick. His wife's hair was no embedded eight inches deep in her skull.
``I bore your children!'' she shrieked.
``You bore them to tears!'' we all snarled, startling Rick, who had not been aware of our presence. But sure enough, from the boys' room down the hall, there came the sound of youngsters weeking.
``Oh that, you mean,'' Janet said. ``They are not bored, they're being tormented by poisonous snakes. Can't you tell? What's wrong with that? It has to give them something to od. They keep telling me, `Mom, we're bored. There's nothing to do.' Then they cry. Well, I guess I fixed that.''
``Next time leave these things to our cat. He has been trained for no other purpose.''
``No, Rick, he has been! Remember? He cooked dinner tonight, washed our clothes, and gave me money when I needed it.''
``No wonder that food tasted like unheated catfood! No wonder my shirts have tags on the back saying, `Licked clean by cat.' '
``You know, Rick, that cat means everything to me. He can do it all.''
``I know. Now for the last time -- let's turn over all our property to him,'' pleaded Rick.
``Let's give him that sad muted trumpet fanfare.''
``Okay,'' agreed Rick. ``But one thing: I know he's a nocturnal animal, but couldn't you please wait until morning to answer hs business mail?''