Most of all, Marge couldn’t stand Malcom’s annoying habit of sucking air in through his teeth when he was thinking. “Would you please stop stucking air?” she’d remind him again and again. So he’d stop temporarily, until he got another important thought in his head.
Also, there was the hair grease. He’d slick his hair down, thinking he looked like the hair-oil man in the commercials. She’d end up having to wash pillow cases that weighed at least three pounds apiece from the oil in them. Then, there was his habit of beginning each sentence with “Uh . . . “
“Can’t you say anything without starting it with ‘uh’?” she’d ask.
“Uh, sure,” he’d reply.
Well, this annoyance worked both ways. It drove him crazy watching her sneeze. She had allergies to about a hundred different things and sneezed constantly.
She carried two or three boxes of tissue with her everywhere she went. She’d scrunch up her nose, squint her eyes, and holler “Cha!” everytime she sneezed. It made him want to sneeze just watching her.
And her hair style. It had not changed one iota in the thirty years they’d been married. She used up two bottles of hair spray a week to keep it in place. She could stroll through a hurricane and it wouldn’t budge.
Once when he tried to run his fingers through her lovely blonde hair, they got stuck and had to be pried loose.
He wanted to watch wrestling on television at the same time she wanted to watch soap operas. This problem was easily solved by the addition of another set. The other differences were not so easily resolved. Then, their niece, Martha Ann, decided to get married to Leroy, who worked down at the fishing supply store.
The wedding took place in a little country church, followed by a reception at Marge and Malcoms’. “Try not to sneeze on the wedding cake,” he fussed. Then, he began to think about Leroy’s job at the fishing supply store. Surely, he thought, he’d be getting a discount or two since Leroy was marrying his niece.
“Would you stop sucking air through your teeth? It gets on my last nerve.” Hissed Marge.
Later, after the wedding cake was served, a big bowl of wine punch was brought out, much to the delight of the wedding party. After they’d had a few glasses, Malcolm took Leroy off to one side in order to warn him about the pitfalls of marriage. “You lucky you got you a woman who colors her hair a different color every month. Marge ain’t changed her hair-do once in the thirty years we been together. And she ain’t stopped sneezing neither. If Martha Ann gets to be as aggravating as Marge, you better leave or get you some nerve pills,” he counseled.
“Uh oh!” thought Leroy, “Hope it don’t run in the family!”
As this was going on, Marge got Martha Ann aside in the kitchen. “If Leroy ever starts putting grease on his hair, you better move out. That Malcom ruins every easy chair he sits in. And you ought to see them greasy pillow cases he can mess up. And when he ain’t slicking his hair back, he’s sucking air in through them teeth. Makes me so mad, I sneeze,” cautioned Marge as she pulled out another tissue.
“Oops," thought Martha Ann, “If Leroy ever starts those habits, he’s history.”
Then, everyone gathered in the living room for one last toast to the newlyweds. “Uh, to the bride and groom!” said Malcom as he held up his glass.
“May you be as happy as we’ve been!” Marge added as the new couple eyed each other suspiciously.
