Talk:March Hare/@comment-25086543-20150502070644/@comment-26115871-20150504145525

I knock on the door, but no one answers. That's unusual. I tell my wife to wait outside (she translates that to 'fuck the mailbox', which is close enough) as I go inside to look for my parents. Half an hour later, I have to conclude that they're just not home. I quickly peek out the window to see what/who my wife's doing right now, and immediately yelp: she happens to be talking to my parents while she's fucking the mailbox. Evidently my parents were out to market.

I run outside and assess the situation. Mom's telling my wife about how I used to try on her dresses as a little child (don't even ask: I was six years old at that time), to which my delighted wife tells me she loves traps and is wondering if she could buy one of my mother's dresses off of her. Great. Thanks a lot mom.

All in all, the meeting goes rather well. My only complaint is that the instant I got home my wife threw out all my clothes and replaced it with dresses.