A Solidary Masterpiece
Nothing tests a person’s raw survival instincts quite like the sudden, terrifying sound of a spouse’s keys rattling in the front door lock.
An unfaithful wife snapped into a state of absolute, frantic panic as her husband unexpectedly returned home early. “Hurry!” she hissed, violently shoving her completely naked lover into the furthest corner of the master bedroom.
Moving with lightning speed, she grabbed a large bottle of baby oil, slathered it all over his skin, and then aggressively blasted him with a thick cloud of white talcum powder until he looked like a flawless marble carving. “Do not blink, do not breathe, and don’t you dare move,” she whispered urgently. “Just pretend you’re a high-end statue.”
Her husband walked in a moment later, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of the ghostly, powder-coated figure looming in the corner. “What on earth is that, honey?” he asked, scratching his head.
“Oh, that? It’s just an avant-garde statue,” she replied with absolute, cold-blooded nonchalance. “The Smiths bought a gorgeous one for their bedroom last week, and I loved the aesthetic so much I decided to treat us to one too!”
The husband accepted the explanation without another word. The evening passed perfectly normally, and the couple eventually turned off the lights and went to sleep, leaving the terrified lover standing completely rigid in the pitch-black room.
Around two o’clock in the morning, the husband quietly slipped out of bed, padded down the hallway to the kitchen, and returned a few minutes later carrying a freshly made ham sandwich and a tall, cold glass of milk.
He walked right up to the shivering, exhausted “statue” in the corner and gently held out the plate.
“Here, buddy,” the husband whispered with deep empathy. “Take this and eat something quickly. I stood like an absolute idiot over at the Smiths’ house for three straight days last month, and those cheap bastards didn’t even offer me a glass of water.”
