When a wife suddenly displays an overwhelming, deeply suspicious level of medical concern for her husband first thing in the morning, a smart man should immediately smell a trap.
She slid a steaming plate of breakfast across the table, but right next to his coffee, she placed a mysterious white pill.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” she said with a remarkably sweet smile. “Take this Paracetamol right after your last bite.”
The husband stared at the tablet, thoroughly bewildered. “Why on earth would I take that? I don’t have a fever.”
“Oh, no problem at all,” she replied smoothly, pulling a different blister pack from her apron pocket. “Take this Digene antacid instead.”
“Come on, honey!” he chuckled. “My digestion is totally fine. I don’t have any gastric trouble.”
“Alright, how about some Pudin Hara then?” she pressed on, eyes glittering. “It provides immediate stomach relief.”
The husband pushed the pills away, getting increasingly defensive. “My dear, I promise you, my stomach is absolutely perfect.”
“Okay, but you must at least take a Combiflam,” she insisted, leaning in close. “Any hidden ache or pain in your arms, legs, or back will disappear in absolutely no time!”
The husband threw his hands up, completely baffled by this sudden onslaught of pharmaceutical generosity. “Are you losing your mind? Why all this extreme care and concern out of nowhere? Thank you, darling, but I am completely fit, perfectly fresh, and bursting with absolute energy!”
A brilliant, predatory smile instantly flashed across the wife’s face.
“Ve…ry good!” she beamed, tossing a dusty broom straight into his lap. “Now take this, clear out all the cobwebs from every single ceiling, and then head up to clean out the entire storage loft. Move, move, move!”
