I love a good scare. Or, more accurately, I love to give a good scare. For the length of our marriage, something my wife and I have done consistently is scare the shit out of each other. We often do this while or after watching a horror movie. But the trick to keeping things effective is to make it a seldom and random experience.
My preferred method of affliction is to stand statue-still in a dark room and either jump out at my wife as she passes by or make a sudden jerky movement. This is effective in that when she gets that feeling she saw something out of the corner of her eye, and then quickly dismisses that feeling, she’s terrified when I make my sudden jerky movements. On occasion, if the setting is right I’ll stand completely still hugging the wall just around a corner and when my wife comes around said corner she practically runs into my giant Irish melon. This inevitably causes a howl.
But my wife probably has the best method. She will stand in the tub, with the shower curtain drawn, and because the curtain is always drawn I suspect nothing. I stroll into the bathroom, usually singing a song that’s nonsense but written (music and lyrics) by yours truly. As I get ready to do my business, my wife whips the curtain open, yells, and lunges at me.
BITCH ON TOAST!
I stumble back and usually fall on the floor, scrambling backwards as I make the sound I suspect I will make at the moment of my death: “UUUUUUH” (this really doesn’t do it justice). And once my body realizes that today is not the day I will die, my wife and I both laugh like maniacal children who have just discovered the joys of setting fires. And it is at times like these I could not love my wife more and feel like the luckiest man in the world.
If I’m found dead in my bathroom, with my pants down, covered in my own urine, and a stricken look upon my face, please know I died doing what I love: having the piss scared out of me. Literally.
Happy Halloween, everyone.