MILQUETOAST AND MYRNA by Michael FitzMichael

Milquestoast was leaving the breakfast nook, hat in hand, when he finally got the nerve to break the news to his wife, Myrna the Merciless. Myrna was sitting with
her feet on the table, scanning the Standard and Poor, and picking her teeth with the point of a knife.

– Honey, guess what…

Myrna sized him up with a sidelong glance that shrank him.

– …What, she off-handedly demanded.

– Do you have to be like that?…

– Don’t start with me. Just get to work.

– All I wanted to say was I finally got that promotion. If that means anything to you…

– It means a little more moolah for me when I soak your sorry ass in divorce court.

– As a matter of fact, it’s a promotion of title and responsibility only. My salary stays the same.

– You’re an asshole.

Milquetoast retreated.

Michael FitzMichael lives in a western state on a pony ranch with dogs and chickens. He can be reached at mike90025@outlook.com