Love is in the Air (A Green Wheelbarrow IP)

That his wife was disagreeable at breakfast was a fact. That she said rude and irritating things about his drinking, his unemployment and his mother. Fact.

That she was unhappy with the marriage. Fact.

That he was not keeping up his end of the bargain and she was tired. Fact

Entered as evidence:

No sex.

No conversation.

No bridge night.

No vacations.

No restaurants.

No pub nights. (Not together, anyway.)

That she still loved him, anyway. Also a fact.

She told you that morning she was leaving you, did she not?

She did.

How did you respond?

I cried.

Then?

I put something in her orange juice.

Barbiturates?

Yes.

How much?

Enough to choke a horse, as the saying goes.

Did you find her passed out in the garden as a result of the aforementioned drugs?

Yes.

Did you place her in the green wheelbarrow and roll her into the garage?

I did.

Did you leave her in the garage?

Just for the night. She looked so comfortable.

In a wheelbarrow?

I made her a bed of hay from the stable.

How kind.

I have my moments.

What happened the following morning?

I went to wake my wife.

And?

She wasn’t waking.

Then?

I packed her in the duffel bag.

That his wife was stuffed in his old Air Force duffel bag and placed on the back seat of the car was a fact.

How he managed to pack her in without breaking anything was a testament to his packing prowess.

Where were you taking her?

Flying.

?

I own and fly a 1977 Piper Navajo Chieftain Panther prop plane.

Where were you flying to?

Nowhere in particular.

?

My wife had always wanted to go skydiving. But was too afraid. So I figured now was as good a time as any.

But she was comatose!

I wanted to surprise her.

By kicking a sleeping woman out of an airplane?

No. I strapped the duffel bag to my back. We would skydive together.

And?

Then I realized there’d be no one left to fly the plane. I hadn’t thought this out to clearly. Too Many Jack Daniel’s the night before.

What happened then?

She must have woken. Because as I was about to unstrap her and fly the damn plane back I noticed her arm poking out of the partially zipped duffel bag.

Then?

Then she smacked me a good one.

And?

Then we went skydiving.

You went skydiving anyway!

I had no choice. She smacked us off the damn plane!

The plane crash could be heard from miles around. Destroying a corn field and a lone scarecrow.

The pilot was given a two year sentence for his misdeeds with the plane and made to pay damages to the corn grower

His wife gave him a reprieve and refused to press charges.

It’s the most romantic thing he’s ever done for me, she said. Stupid, yes, but it’s the thought that counts.

Ah, ain't love grand?