He goes, “Yeah. A literal truck. Nineteen wheels of betrayal. I find diesel on the doorknob and tire tracks in the backyard. Last week, she moaned ‘Mack’ in her sleep.” I looked at him and said, “That’s enough. How about… a truck? Seriously?”
At this rate, we’re both gonna get dumped for a construction site. Next thing you know, your wife runs off with an excavator, and mine’s eloping with a guy named ‘Stucco Steve’ who specializes in drywall and disappointment.
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