It was Valentine’s Day. Horace and Pamela were married on that day eight years ago. Each year they would celebrate it with a special dinner. This year, they didn’t celebrate.
Horace came home from work and said he’d had enough. He was leaving.
Pamela said good riddance. She said she was only too glad to get rid of the rubbish in her life.
Horace said he was sick of living with a neurotic pile of shit.
Pamela said go suck eggs.
Horace reckoned she’d seen more ceilings than Michelangelo.
Pamela said go suck eggs – again.
Horace stormed out, slamming the door on the way. He drove off in his car.
Pamela frantically vacuumed the house.