Another Tiny Tale.

I’m sure, in the future, I will find every reason to pontificate (and as a Discordian Pope;

I reserve the right to pontificate), in this blog, about life, and the human condition.

But for now, I would like you to consider the following 250 words about love (and beg your forgiveness, for telling such a saccharine tale, and ask you to make allowances for a sentimental old romantic, who on Monday will be celebrating 24 years of connubial bliss, with my beloved wife, the Fabulous Lady Zooty).

Edith was always close to her husband, even more so since his recent retirement, when he took up residence in a special room in her heart. The first few weeks without work had been hard on Jack, bereft of purpose, and Edith was sad to see him diminish before her eyes. A matter of months after receiving his golden handshake, Jack had shrunk to less than an inch in height, although this made Edith love him no less. In fact his stature offered a possible solution to his suffering, and a unique opportunity to get closer to his wife.

One night Edith cooked Jack his favourite meal, to put him in the best of moods, before they both repaired to the privacy of their bedroom. Edith showed Jack the door to the secret room in her heart. She told him that the room was for his sole use, and invited him to reside within.

The first weeks in his new residence, Jack was occupied with a little light maintenance and redecoration, making himself comfortable. Now Jack spends his days relaxing in his wife’s loving heart. Sometimes he reads the newspaper or listens to music, although recently he has become engrossed in writing his memoires. Edith goes about her normal day while Jack lives within her. She does some housework and shopping, and attends her weekly pottery class, and monthly book club. Edith and Jack maintain that you have to treasure your separate interests in order to have a happy marriage.