Thomas was getting fat and Janet was not happy.
Thomas was getting rich, too comfy and too successful
to remember the student-athlete she had fallen madly
and gladly in love with and now that their first attempt
at the husband and wife conjugation had failed in miscarriage,
she had too much time and too little else to think about except
that Thomas was growing stout from client lunches and peer
adulation plus lack of exercise and the sixty-inch plasma
screen showing sports, sports and men in shorts who mirrored
his once-sleek, athletic image. Janet had grown sick of it.
Then she saw the pajamas on the floor by his side of
the bed. Extra-extra large with tall giraffes and clocks
mounted four-sides in taller towers.
Why were giraffes in need of telling the time?
Why were clocks requiring of giraffes checking their
hour and minute maneuvers?
Janet burst into laughter and did not stop until she
checked her own time on the kitchen clock.
When she called Thomas at work she was wearing the
well-oversized pajamas belonging to her husband.
"Thomas," she announced. "Break off early today.
"I'm cooking you a large spaghetti dinner just like the
kind your mom cooked for your dear old dad."
Thomas was totally disarmed at the other end but
he knew better than to object. Besides, he was already
"I'll be wearing something very comfortable when
you get here," she cooed.