My husband the Magician

A pleasant Friday night in June, my husband and I chose to spend it on Starbuck’s patio. People who know us realize we frequent this establishment on a regular basis, and own stock in the company.

Lounging on their new outdoor furniture, we enjoyed orange blossom green tea and pomegranate lemonade.  Chatting, we recapped the events of the day.  Our Australian Shepherd was sacked out on her doggie blanket near our feet.

The darkness of the evening mingled with a slight breeze.

I glanced over and noticed my husband repeatedly digging at his shorts.

“What is wrong with you?”

“My underwear is bugging the crap out of me.”

“I dare you to take them off in public.”

Within seconds, Russell revealed a multi-use tool hiding in his back jeans pocket. He proceeded to cut the waistband (vertically) with the pocketknife portion of the tool.   As he yanked the material in opposite directions, I heard the faint noise of cloth ripping.

Standing up, Russell quickly spun around with his derriere facing me. With his right hand, he pulled the tidy-whities from the top of his jean shorts and deposited them in the waste container nearby.

I belted out a hardy chuckle which transformed into a laugh-snort.

“I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

“What, you didn’t think I could do it?”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

Feeling set free from ‘the cotton’, Russell plopped back down in the chair, grinning ear-to-ear.

I suppose I should’ve never doubted his ability to pull this stunt off.

I’m married to man who once tied knots in 15 maraschino cherry stems in less than five minutes…