Just sitting around out of my caffeinated mind listening to the inescapable Christmas music. A hypothetical question arose:
Suppose you did in fact see your mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night. Would you really rat her out to your old man?
There’s an old adage, a “rule of thumb” you might call it, that says:
“The only man your wife is allowed to flirt with is the butcher.”
Now, it just seems to me that that rule of thumb would apply more appropriately to a little hanky-panky with Santa Claus.
And speaking of thumbs; if the butcher ever gets a little too frisky with your wife just go over there and cut off his thumb. If you get into trouble for doing so you can just tell the jury it’s your thumb. After all, you saw him put it on the scale, weigh it out and charge you for it. It’s yours, bought and paid for – he just forgot to wrap it.
The idle mind’s the Devil’s playground.
So. Ho! Ho! Ho! and all that. If I don’t see you before then, have a Merry Christmas!