August 20, 2007
I’m Now Married to
the Bionic Woman
I hate it when my
wife Sally watches reruns of old TV shows because I always have to pay
the price when I get home from work.
Take what happened
the other day.
The minute I walked
in the door, Sally leaped from her chair and shouted, “I am the Bionic
“The Bionic Woman?”
“Right on, chubby
cheeks!” she screamed. “B-I-O-N-I-C W-O-M-A-N! The honeymoon is over!
From now on I call the shots around here!”
I slipped into my
office and called our daughter Laurie.
“What’s up with
Mom?” I asked her.
“She’s the Bionic
Woman,” Laurie replied. “I found out about it when I dropped by the
house this morning.”
I returned to the
“Do you have
to be the Bionic Woman?” I asked Sally.
“You bet!” she
declared. “It’s high time somebody took charge around here. And that
SOMEBODY’S gonna be me!”
She pointed to the
front door. “If you don’t clean up the basement right now I’ll resort to
violence with my super bionic hands!”
“Say please,” I told
“OK,” she said,
“Please clean up the basement right now or I will resort to violence
with my super bionic hands!”
I returned to the
bedroom and phoned our son Chris.
“Have you talked to
mom lately?” I asked him.
“If you mean the
Bionic Woman, yes, I talked to her this morning,” he said. “When I asked
her what was going on, she said if I cooperated she would make me the
Bionic Man. I told her I’d think about it.”
I went back to the
“Did you clean up
the basement yet?” she asked.
That’s when I struck
a defiant pose and shouted, “No, I didn’t clean up the basement and,
furthermore, I don’t intend to either because I am the . . . the . . .
the . . . Six Million Dollar Man! So there!”
I felt victory in my
First Sally looked
Then her eyes began
to fill with tears.
That’s when the Six
Million Dollar Man left the living room to go clean up the basement . .
© 2007 North Star Writers
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