Homer & Marge (Part One)

Some of you may have read Homer & Marge (Part One) on The Mad Lady's blog on which it appeared as a guest post last week.

I have just finished Homer & Marge (Part Four) and submitted it to The Mad Lady.

I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I am not a viewer of The Simpson's
and that my Homer and Marge are most definitely not yellow!  

I picked the names Homer and Marge without even thinking that they 
were already 'in use' by our yellow, animated friends.

Anyway, for those of you that have not yet read Homer & Marge (Part One),  
here it is ... 
(it's a little bit rude, but not much! You have been warned!)

Homer & Marge (Part One)

The door slammed.

“WOMAN!” screamed Homer as he threw his coat over the banister. “Get out here and drop ‘em!”

Marge, his wife, walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a tea towel. “You what?” she snarled.

“C’mon babes … drop ‘em.  I want some ‘nicies’”

“Not a chance.  I’ve got dinner to make and kids the need to be taken to the movies” she spat at him.

“C’mon babes! The game kicks off in twenty minutes and it’ll only take me two minutes. You’ll be back in the kitchen in no time at all.”

“NO!”

“Aw babes!  Daddy wanna go ‘wabbiting’. Been finking ‘bout it aaaaaall day”, he said putting on his best impression of a four year old.

Looking at her watch she relented and said “OK, but be quick!”

She dropped ‘em and bent over the sofa. She silently thanked God knitting, which she was sure was invented for times like these.

There was a sensation of movement behind her, followed quickly by a thrust that made her drop a stitch.

“A-ha!” she thought, “the terrier is in the warren”.

Heavy breathing and the occasional slap on her butt were the only indications that Homer was still there.

“Oh yeah, baby! Oh yeah! There we go. Another line finished. Soon have this ‘juniors’ sweater finished” she said over her shoulder.

“Uuuuugh, aaaah, yeah! Uuuuunnnnnnnnngggggghhhhhhh!  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” he said and flopped onto the floor.

“Well?” she asked. “Can I get on with dinner now?”

“Sure” came the out of breath reply. “Thanks babes!  You earned yourself another tube of strawberry flavoured willy lube”.

“Gee! Thanks!” she said, as she dribbled her way towards the bathroom.