Posts Tagged ‘near death’

My wife would make a stellar super villain or assassin. Her super-power is her brain used in tandem with hypnotic and alluring eyes of death. Because she is a genius, I have to work extra hard to stay alive at home. Every moment I live only increases the possibility I may be walking directly into a trap or ambush of epic proportions. Because she is currently incubating my daughter, I am extra vulnerable to her charm. The unavoidable draw of a pregnant woman cannot be overcome by any super power. Pregnant girls are the worst type of super villain. There are multiple incidents I can relay to you to justify these claims, and today I offer one of them up to you. I have titled this The Croissant Incident of 2012 as it happened in 2012 and deals with croissants.

My wife tried to kill me this morning. She had strategically placed a box of croissants, the huge box that you buy at the Sam’s Club or Costco, on top of the fridge. She is brilliant. She had it set up so that the croissant box relied upon the surface area of the door in order to stay up there. Think “bucket over the door trick” where the person opens the door causing the bucket to empty its contents on you. I saw her last night formulating this, but didn’t realize her evil villain tendencies until it was too late.

She acted as her own bait by looking at me with her deep brown eyes, rubbing her baby bump, where my daughter is currently incubating, and then asked for help getting the heavy stuff to her car. I’m caught. I should’ve known that she was plotting my death. I opened the freezer to retrieve three gallons of ice cream, which were no doubt going to be a part of my death celebration later at the school where she teaches. Like clockwork. The door opens removing a critical piece of surface area from beneath the croissant box; I am bent over leaving my head exposed to blunt force trauma; the box falls. The box weighs what seemed like 80 pounds, acceleration due to gravity 9.8 m/s squared, distance of 6 feet, box has a sharp point putting all the force into a small surface area. Punch all that data into a formula that looks something like this:

  (this photo is not my property, and I am not sure if I stole it illegally)

After completing the formula, the answer you will come to is: Really God Damned Hard.

The Croissant box hit me Really God Damned Hard.

What my wife failed to remember is that my skull is ten times thicker than the average mans, which is why I am capable of writing this blog right now and not dead.  Her longing to kill me was matched only by my longing to survive.

I came up dazed, grabbed the croissant box and put it so high none of us could reach it; it would do no harm to anyone as long as I was in the house. Saying nothing to my wife, I grabbed the celebratory ice cream, ran out the door and loaded it in her car. When I re-entered the house, I realized I had misjudged my wife’s longing for my death. There she is all pretty and looking very concerned over my recent near death scare. Her eyes grow twice their normal size, they are intoxicating. Must not look directly into them….I try to fight it by yelling, “What in the hell would you want a freaking croissant for!” What she says next is genius. “I told you that wasn’t a good place for the croissants……”

I just wanted you to know, because I have been holding it in for years.