I had fun putting a scare into Mrs B.
Mrs B is a pretty hard case - think Sarah Palin on steroids suffering from industrial strength PMT and wearing a fright mask. But she can be credulous if something like The Rapture is repeated in the news often enough and she had been drawn in.
She says she married me for my sense of humor, and I married her out of conviction, or the possibility of getting one if I hadn't married her. I'm still not convinced you legally have to marry a girl just because you left the toilet seat up in her house on the first date.
I'm so careful about that now.
Ayhoo she got a shock on Saturday evening, Rapture Day, when she came out into the garden to find I was nowhere to be seen and my sole earthly garment, vacant of its occupant, on the lawn.
From my hiding place up in the tree I heard her gasp, "O-M-G, O-M-G. He's been RAPTURED"
Ruptured would have been closer, I don't know about you but I haven't climbed a tree, naked and in a hurry, since I was about 12. Apart from our honeymoon. But it was worth the effort.
I was shaking with mirth so much the tree was swaying, spooky, because there was no wind. Not yet anyway. But when I crammed my fist into my mouth to hold down a fit of giggles what was suppressed at one end found an exit at the other. Yea the trumpet shall sound!
Even that sulphurous blast could have passed for one of the signs and omens of doomsday if only my cap hadn't fallen off, causing Mrs B to rumble me and look heavenward.
"Hey Baldie, your end is in sight. And it ain't pretty."
With some effort I got down from the tree and Mrs B, seeing the funny side of things (she certainly laughed each time she looked up), helped by letting me stand on her shoulders and lowering me to the ground. It was just like the old days when we scrambled over the back wall to avoid her mother's visits. Ah memories!
"What's with all the goo on your ankles Baldie?"
"That's Vaseline honey, to help me slide back down the tree"
"Jesus you're weird"
It wasn't true: just in case the rapture really did arrive on Saturday night I'd smeared my ankles with Vaseline so Mrs B couldn't hold me back or hitch a ride.