Wrigley’s Romance

The missus and I, well, we’re a couple of cards, if you catch my drift.  Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything she WON’T do. We sat down the other night to watch some Gilligan’s Island reruns and I pops a stick of gum in my mouth.  And just like that, I pops in another. And, heck, pop in another.  My missus looks at me like I was a giraffe or a Hindu fakir or something and says, “Why, heaven on earth, Seymour, what on earth – ” But I beats her to the conclusion of her peroration and pop yet in another.  So, she follows suit.  Pops in one, then another, then before you know it, both of us can’t talk or hardly move our mouths. Then it dawn on me:  I got her just where I want her. So I blow up both of my cheeks and pops ‘em with my hands, while saying, “Pop! Pop! Pop!” “Pop! Pop! Pop!” She’s always been real fast on the uptake and she pops HER cheeks and SHE goes “Pop! Pop! Pop!” to keep up with me. We looked at each other and enjoyed that existential moment or recognition you hear so much about. Now we go through the routine every Thursday night, and dad-burn if it didn’t strengthen our relationship and save our marriage.