The “Bad Husband” Chronicles

Just another day for you and me in Paradise

Chapter 7

Posted by mozziestarlet on September 25, 2008

9am: It’s Saturday morning and I am looking forward to a quiet and peaceful morning spent in recovery from managing the Goat Ropers’ Rodeo in my office. The husband meanders downstairs and brightens my early morning routine by proclaiming: “Babe, check it out! Look what I found!” My curiosity is naturally peeked so I glance over to see what hidden treasure he has undoubtedly unearthed from the clutter of his living quarters. “It’s my high school class ring! Isn’t that SO cool?” I smile and give him my ‘Aww, isn’t that SPECIAL?’ look when I notice that not only has he found his high school class ring from 1982, but is now also WEARING it. Given that we are all the exact same size as we were during our high school years, this makes complete sense that he has squeezed his 1982 high school class ring onto his chubby finger.

10:30am: The husband is beginning to show signs of loss of circulation in the finger now sporting his 1982 high school class ring. He’s trying to remain cool and collected like every man does, but I detect the panicked look in his eyes. In my peripheral vision, I notice that he is now twiddling and maneuvering the ring in a desperate attempt to get it off his finger and with no such luck.

11am: The husband is now in the bathroom trying to locate any and every possible form of household lubricant to remove the high school class ring. I give myself a ‘thatta girl’ pat on the back for purchasing the family size container of liquid soap a few days earlier that is now a dire necessity. The husband begins groaning and moaning because the class ring simply will not budge. His finger has now completely swollen over the entire circumference of the ring and is a lovely shade of burgundy.

11:30am: The husband has begun to employ desperate measures to remove the class ring and restore proper circulation to his right hand. He has now made his way outside to rummage through his survival kit of random tools and necessities that clearly includes a tool labeled as ‘What to use when you are a complete imbecile and nothing else is working.’ He makes his way back into the den with a tiny, thread-like survival saw in his hand. He then proceeds to loop the thin thread beneath the space between his class ring and now swollen finger and begins to saw back and forth. I temporarily excuse myself to the bathroom where I proceed to pee in my pants from the absolute comedy unfolding.

12:30pm: After an hour of employing the ‘What to use when you are a complete imbecile and nothing else is working’ survival saw, I recommend to the husband that we call 911 before the situation gets any more serious. Within 10 minutes, the paramedics arrive to assess the dire situation involving the husband and his newfound appreciation for his 1982 high school class ring. Given that paramedics are trained in truly unpredictable events and to ‘Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups,’ I know that they will be able to immediately rectify the problem.

1pm: After 30 minutes of trying to remove the class ring, the paramedics concur that the husband will need to be taken to the hospital where appropriate removal measures will be taken. The husband reluctantly climbs aboard the ambulance and begins sharing the truly nostalgic notion that led him to try on his 1982 high school class ring in the first place. All of the paramedics are completely moved and touched by the husband’s heartwarming tale and total grasp of good judgment.

1:15pm: I stand at the front door and wave goodbye to the husband, his swollen finger, and his 1982 high school class ring as they head off to the hospital. It’s always good to know that your family has helped the local medical community reach their daily imbecile quotient.

5pm: The husband arrives back home from the hospital with his finger in a splint. Apparently, during all of his desperate maneuvering earlier in the day, he managed to break the finger that sported his 1982 class ring. I take one look at the broken finger, now supported by a metal splint, and completely lose all composure as I break into a hysterical laughing spell. Between the class ring, the liquid soap, the survival saw, the paramedics, and now the splint…it’s just too much, even for me!


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3 Responses to “Chapter 7”

  1. mrcarl007 said

    Wow that husband of yours is definitely something else i swear!!! lol.. I mean what made him think that the ring would fit after 26 years? lol!!! that’s older than I am! this made my day! lmao!!!

  2. Micha said

    oh man what a story, are you sure that this is your life and not a sitcom made up by some crazy person? Your husband is really an interesting object for scientific purposes … one day everyone at the universities will study him and his ways … 😉

  3. Patrick said

    LMAO!!!!!!!!!

    He tried on his 1982 class ring in 2008…..ROFL!!!

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