The plan to fool my wife into thinking it was snowing on the morning of April 1 failed. And it's my own fault.
In the world of humor, we must be wary of the sin of Going to the Well Too Often. There are one-liners. (I just flew in from Vegas and, boy, are my arms tired.) A lot of jokes rely on "triples." (A priest, a minister, and a rabbi walk into a bar. Et cetera.)
But the comedy world does not recognize the "sixteen-tuplet." You can't tell your wife it's snowing on the morning of every April Fool's Day for 16 years in a row without expecting that, eventually, she's gonna catch on.
I woke up waaay before Jo, about 6:00 a.m. My plan was to get up when she did, hurry to the dining room, make a big to-do out of raising the shades and call out "Wowee, it's snowing!"
So I waited an hour (and a delightful hour it was, envisioning the hijinks that loomed ahead) until Jo woke. When she started to get up, I jumped out of bed so as to spring my trap
That's where I went wrong. Like I said, I "jumped out of bed," but "jumping out of bed" is not a behavior for which I am noted. The last time I jumped out of bed, people were screaming "Reveille! Reveille! Drop your cocks and put on your socks!"
So, as I was racing past Jo in the hallway (There's another red flag: "I was racing." Anyone who has known me for longer than, oh, five minutes, knows that speed is not a Frank Mullen Core Value), Jo said, with a disturbing tone of self-satisfaction,
"Gee, do you think it's snowing this morning?"
|April Fool's, Honey!|