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Several weeks ago, I had a bottle of dr.pepper stashed away in the back of the refrigerator. The goal was to drink it with some lower end bourbon I had collected that weekend.
That did not happen.
My wife was able to find my sugary treat and drank it during the week. Come Saturday night I discovered my stash was taken from me. I asked her what happened to it, and she confessed and apologized. I did NOT accept her apology.
While driving to our local gas station while listening to “Hurt” sung by Johnny Cash I plotted my revenge. Mixing it up, I told her what I was planning.
“I know you’re kinda sick right now, so I won’t do it now. But, when you get better, I plan on ticking you... in the armpits for what you did to me tonight” -me
Fast forward exactly one week.
I exacted me revenge.
I ticked relentlessly. Our 3yr old daughter even got in on this tickling. It felt wonderful. Like most husbands I tend to let things go, and live my life with mild inconveniences. Not this time. The laughs came from the belly. Breathing came in gasps. The dog was barking.
Then it happened. I went too far.
The puke was projectile. It got on me, the kid, the couch, THE CAT. IN THE CARPET.
I am in the dog house. I will never be forgiven.
TL;DR I ruined my life with a tickle fight
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