Monkeying Around

My husband Dusty walked up to me and had what I though was a small moth on his shirt. I did what any good wife would do. I reached up and flicked it off.

I completely expected it to fly away. Instead it splattered, leaving a dark streak across his shirt, and dark goo all over my  finger. I then did what the average wife with moth guts on her finger would do - I freaked out. I began yelling and running around the room trying to find something to wipe my finger on before realizing the logical choice of the bathroom sink. While making a beeline for the bathroom, Dusty stopped me, demanding to know what my problem was.

"There was a moth on you and I flicked it and it smooshed and splattered everywhere!"

I managed to slow down enough to show him the "yuck" on my finger though it's still grossing me out completely and I'm in a hurry to get it off.

Instead of the wrinkled nose that commiserated with the fact that I have moth guts on my finger, he gave me that smile that I know so well. The one that says "I've married such a ditz." And that was enough to make me stop and think about it.

He had just been eating a chocolate covered ice cream cone. I had indeed splattered not a moth, but a drop of chocolate. No wonder it didn't fly away.