Nag

The chatter, chatter, chatter, continued around him unabated. Oh, to be sure, some of it was his fault, but who could blame him, with all that nattering chatter going on? What’s she want to nag him for anyway? Wasn’t his life hard enough without her barking at him all the time? Didn’t he get up almost every day and drag his sorry butt to work where the office was filled with even more chatter, chatter, chatter? How much could a man take? Maybe she’d get sick, some kind of cancer. No, that’d take too long. What about a car wreck? Tamper with the brakes or something. That’d be just his luck that she’d end up with an expensive fender bender but no one gets hurt. Something in her food? She doesn’t let him any where near the kitchen. Pillow case over her face? That would leave traces of something, wouldn’t it? Just live long enough, like a tree, adding layer after layer of bark for protection, thick layers to keep her and that awful nagging out. Maybe easier to pretend to go deaf, put in hearing aids but keep them turned off. There has to be way to stop all the noise.

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