AcmeShorts

Why must she always fixate on what I do wrong, mused Bob, prancing angrily through the fields of flaxen clover. I support her, buy her gifts, listen to her troubles when she's blue...here he lifted his petticoats to avoid catching them on some brambles... and still she treats me as if I was expendable, like some piece of old clothing! At last, he reached the clearing. With relief, he loosened the stays on his corset, lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, taking care to avoid getting smoke on his bonnet. "How much longer?" he asked aloud. "How much longer?" Tears of anguish welled up in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Let them run, he thought bitterly. As if she would ever notice a few streaks in his mascara!