She's been thinking.

Spleenal’s wife put down her “now” magazine,looked up and to the side a little bit with one eye half closed and half a smile on her face.

Uh oh. She was thinking.

Spleenal was incredibly sexist, and that whole “women thinking” thing always made him uncomfortable.

“I’ve been thinking…” she said.

“Shit! I knew it!” thought Spleenal.

“This family needs a dog.” She continued.

“Humm, yeah a dog would be nice I guess, shame we can’t afford it, and I’m allergic anyway.”

That was it. Spleenal had laid it down. His word was law in his house. There’d be no more talk of this silly “dog” business.

“Yeah, but the kids really want one. I think we should get one.”

Eh? This didn’t make sense. He’d said no but that hadn’t been the end of it!?! This seemed a lot like more silly dog talk.

“What part of we cant afford it do you not understand?” Asked an increasingly red in the face Spleenal. “I had to spend all my birthday money on food so we didn’t get charged again for going over the over draft! If I can’t get a lift into work I have to take a days holiday because I can’t afford the bus fair!”

“This family won’t be complete until we have a dog.” It seemed as though shed made her mind up. Her arms were folded.

“I’m allergic you deranged bitch!” Spleenal seemed to have a hard time getting his point across. “A-L-E-R… erm A-L-L-E-R… Right, well it doesn’t matter how it’s spelt, just that I am it to them. End of!”

“The kids are really set on it. They really, really want one. How can you disappoint them?”

“Easy! Because we got no fuckin’ money, and I’m allergic!” There. That was it now. She knew exactly where she stood. “ And anyway, they’re kids, ‘course they want a dog. They want jetpacks and flamethrowers too. I’m not getting them those either.”

“I want a bichon frise.” She said with a big smile, and a far away dreamy look in her eye.

“What the fuck is a bichon frise!?!”

“You’ll love it. They’re meant to give out hardly any allergens.” She’d done research. How long had she’d been planning this?

“Hardly any? What about none?” Spat Spleenal.

“Urrgh no only poodle’s have none, and I don’t want one of them. And anyway I’ve already put a deposit on a bichon.” She confessed.

“What!?!” Shouted Spleenal. How had he allowed her to get so out of control?

“!!!” He said. “How much!?!?!?!?!”

“£200.” She answered.

“200 quid for a fuckin’ dog!?!? They’ve got ‘em for free down the pound!!!”

“No, £200 was the deposit.” She said “It’s 500 all in.”

“Blerch!” choked Spleenal. The last time he’d had a night out had been the works Christmas do, and due to lack of funds, the time before that had been the previous works do. If you say you can’t go out, because you can’t afford it for long enough, eventually people give up on you.

It looked a lot like the day when he had enough money to have a drink with a friend would still be a few years off.

They were getting a dog!

Comedy was bound to follow…