“Dear,” asked a wife. “What would you do if I died?”
“Why dear, I would be extremely upset,” said the husband. “Why do you ask such a question?”
“Would you remarry?” Persevered the wife.
“No, of course not, dear,” said the husband.
“Don’t you like being married?” Asked the wife.
“Of course I do, dear” he said.
“Then why wouldn’t you remarry?”
“All right,” said the husband, “I’d remarry.”
“You would?” said the wife, looking vaguely hurt.
“*groans* Yes,” said the husband.
“Would you sleep with her in our bed?” asked the wife.
After a long pause. “Well, yes, I suppose I would,” replied the husband.
“I see,” said the wife indignantly. “And would you let her wear my old clothes?”
“I suppose, if she wanted to,” said the husband.
“Really,” said the wife icily. “And would you take down the pictures of me and replace them with pictures of her?”
“Yes. I think that would be the correct thing to do.”
“Is that so?” said the wife, leaping to her feet.
“And I suppose you’d let her play with my golf clubs, too!?”
“Of course not, dear,” said the husband. “She’s left-handed.”
“..Oh crap.”