Last night was a good night. Sharron (Mother in Law) cooked a near on perfect lasagne. We ate outside having a good old chat. I settled in for a few minutes on the couch for a cuppa before turning in for the night with my beloved husband. With the voice of an angel I asked for a good night cuddle (get your minds out of the gutter, I asked for a C-U-D-D-L-E).
Steve: Take me to hell
Kirsty: That’s what its like to cuddle your wife is it, going to hell?
Steve: It’s not going to hell. I just thought hell would be more fun.
Steve: [evil laughter]
Now. I think that is a wee bit unfair. I decided to do some research to substantiate my case. The obvious first point of my argument is that Steve was “required” to cuddle ME. His beautiful, long-legged, very ginger yet incredibly good looking wife. Here is my picture. Sure I may have some slightly claw like hands and a bit of a grouchy looking face but check out those pins!
As if my argument of how RIDICULOUS Steve is being needed more support… but I’ll continue anyway. My best mate Google informed me that this is the definition of hell:
A place regarded in various religions as a spiritual realm of evil and suffering, often traditionally depicted as a place of perpetual fire beneath the earth where the wicked are punished after death.
I know Steve and he will be thinking this means some hot looking dominatrix will be there tickling him with a feather. Oh the sufferance. He is wrong. It will be a morbidly obese woman whose teeth have rotted away wearing a G-String forcing him to watch Super Nanny and give her a back rub (among other things). Oh and given that it is perpetual fire beneath the earth, I’d say it’d be a bit warm – and there wouldn’t be air conditioning.
Have fun Steve. Enjoy your fun trip to hell MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!