Congratulations on Finally Catching That Squirrel That's Been Fucking Your Wife!

Today you’re going to burst into the room while the squirrel is nestled between your wife’s thighs, tail upright, fur bristling with pleasure.

“Chitter chitter,” the squirrel will moan, romancing your wife.

“What the shit!” you’ll shout, hurling your bag across the room, straight into the ancient lamp your wife forced you to buy at a yard sale far too long ago.

“Oh god! Honey!” your wife will shriek, forcing the squirrel out from between her legs and clutching the sheets to her bare bosom, soaking it with blood from her squirrel bites. The squirrel will scrabble away, fleeing to the windowsill where the window will still be open, curtains billowing out, showcasing the ingress first used by the squirrel. He’ll pause there, giant squirrel erection pulsing awkwardly as he looks back and forth between the two of you, trying to decide if he wants to flee.

Your wife will get out of bed, the sheet wrapped around her. The stains on her chest will be spreading slowly and surely as she stares at you, horrified, not even glancing at the squirrel, whose erection will be fast fading.

“I didn’t think you’d be home from work for another hour.”

You’ll rip off your jacket and throw it at the other lamp, the one you bought at Ikea. You’ll knock this one over without breaking it and advance on your wife and the squirrel, walking towards the corner of the bed on a vector that carries you closer to both of them. Your mind won’t be made up.

“Does that make it better?” Your voice will be flat, emotionless, as scary as a voice can be.

Your wife won’t respond. She’ll be frozen in place. The squirrel, however, will not. He’ll take the cue and book it out the window. He’ll be well clear by the time you make it to the top bureau drawer, get the gun out and point it out the window, letting three rounds fly, taking chunks out of the tree.

You’ll turn from the window still clutching the gun. Your wife will stand there, trembling, eyes flitting between the revolver, still smoking, and your eyes. They’ll flit between her chest and her eyes. Your jaw will be locked. The two of you will stand there for what feels like a very, very long time, but will, in reality, only be a few seconds.

Congratulations on Finally Catching That Squirrel That’s Been Fucking Your Wife!