Just as Leopold was about to undergo purgation for reproductive toxicity, disaster struck. His wife had insisted that he have such a treatment and it was while flying to Los Angeles to see the experts that something happened to change his mind. He met a high altitude safety technician. She was delivering cut lunches to all the passengers when she leant over to ensure that Leopold’s safety belt was properly fastened. “We don’t want you to fall out of your seat when the plane crashes do we, sweet pea?” That was enough to convince Leopold that the proposed purgation of his reproductive toxicity should be put on hold.
Quite frankly, enough was enough. Upon arrival in Los Angeles Leopold and Angelina (for that was her name) booked into a motel where they mutually enhanced not only Leopold’s reproductive toxicity but his toxic masculinity as well. It was what used to be known as “a dirty weekend”.
Upon his return home Leopold’s wife was convinced that the expert’s purgation had indeed worked, for he no longer showed any interest in her. That was the beginning of the end; or rather the beginning of the beginning. They drifted apart. Leopold’s wife revelled in her new-found independence and ran for Congress. She was duly elected and had an extremely fruitful career demanding the destruction of male reproductive toxicity up and down the county.
Leopold’s ex-wife became something of a celebrity but, I’m sorry, I can’t remember her name.