One for the road

My wife has a weakness for palate, for sweet things she overly cares. Sometimes I think she would rather be married to a chocolate éclair, or a giant sweet toffee apple or a silky smooth galaxy bar or a big bag of popcorn or a wrapped-chocolate assortment jar. Does she know how stupid she looks? Does her stomach not say to the brain, ‘look here, stop trying to explode me it’s too much, are you insane?’ She cheats on me all day long lusting for American cookies, it’s honestly plainly absurd like an addict always at the bookies. One night I came home from work, I found her alone by the bed. She was guilty by this fact when I turned on the light she was red. Red with passion in the form of jam smeared all over her face and the filthy clothes of jam doughnuts disposed by the door where they had first embrace. I could smell the scent of his sugar lingering gross in the air and I found him at last by the involved milk glass, I warned him ‘you’d better beware.’ ‘I’d finish you off in a second and sweet my revenge it would taste. To think a mere doughnut could take captive my woman, well villain, your hope is misplaced. And with that I threw him asunder into the waste paper bin. He bled to death there all over corpses of past lovers therein. She ran over to me and she cried ‘Oh darling please don’t be cross. He tried to force himself on me. I told him I did to get lost. But he wore some toxic perfume that sent me quite into a trance and I was not myself my love when I succumbed to his sumptuous glance. ‘There, there my dear, I forgive you but please, you’re breaking my heart. I can offer much more than any doughnut or bar what say you? Let’s make a new start. Fast forward a year and oh bliss my wife is reformed from her ways, not a sweetie in sight and I’ve searched alright, no longer the guilt in her gaze. It’s true she’s addicted to cheese and is quite the adulterer with ham and bread crumbs I find on the floor by the rind but not a drop worth of jam!