He always considered his wife as kind of funny looking. Not in the slightly squint eyed sort of way, but in the not-quite-able-to-put-your-finger-on-it-but-I-find-it-strangely-attractive one.

He stood there looking at her, standing in the kitchen doorway, unable to gauge any intent from the expression on her face.

“What?â€? she blurted out, biscuit crumbs spraying out in all directions.

“What is that supposed to mean…finally? Was it a delivery you were expecting?â€? he asked incredulously.

“No of course not. Stop being so melodramatic and go and bring it in. It’s obviously someone’s idea of a joke. Go and get it.â€?

He shook his head in utter disbelief and turned back out of the front door towards the mailbox.

Striding back into the house he waved it towards her “See, this isn’t a joke? This is a real…â€?

He stopped mid sentence, the loud bang and flash bringing his tirade to an abrupt halt; groaning as his wife stumbled back through the kitchen door and crashed into the fridge.

“Shit!â€?