The wife was aggressively banging pots around in the kitchen when she yelled over the noise, “Did you take your pill yet?!”
From the comfort of his living room recliner, the old man grunted from behind his newspaper, “What?!”
She raised her voice to a screech. “YOUR PILL! DID YOU TAKE IT?”
Still hiding behind the sports section, he snapped back, “What pill are you even talking about?!”
Frustrated, she stormed into the living room with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “The one that stops you from being so damn grumpy!”
The old man slowly lowered the newspaper, squinted at her, and retorted, “Well, I must’ve successfully skipped that prescription for the last forty years.”
She rolled her eyes down to the floor. “I really should’ve married a man with better hearing.”
“And I should’ve married a woman with a mute button,” he smirked.
The room suddenly went deathly silent. The wife stepped forward, leaned in close, and whispered with chilling calmness, “Keep talking like that, Harold, and the only pill you’ll be needing tonight is a heavy sleeping aid… because you’re going to be sleeping out in the doghouse.”
The old man blinked, carefully folded his newspaper, and sighed:
“Fair enough, dear… guess I’ll take two tonight, just in case.”
