The girl rested her head on my lap. I could

The girl rested her head on my lap. I could feel her warmth tickle me as I stroked her hair. Everything was perfect. The way she was, the way we were. Though things were not the

the moment. We wrestled under the covers, but then a wet nose pressed against my toe. The passion was ruined as her Great Dane leaped onto the water bed.

I get jealous easily, and while I'd gladly toss a frisbee with him in the backyard, my wife was caged by his cherubic affection and charming looks. Our bed was not our dane's bed.

Our car was not our dad's automobile. Who was this baby and why had he replaced my place in my wife's heart. I started drinking root beer heavily. I never changed my shirt. I burpe

d when I should have held it in. My wife's parents were visiting, and they were absolutely blown away. The gastric gust knocked them off their feet. I blamed it on the baby but

I blamed everything on the baby, so they didn't believe me. I helped them to their feet. Scowling, my father-in-law muttered, "blames violent burps on baby," while scribbling in

the ridiculous notepad he kept shoved in his pocket. The baby gurgled & farted like a truck driver. My father-in-law scowled. 'What'd you do now, you loser? Did you feed the baby

roasted duck, like I told you not to?" My father-in-law was furious. I pull the baby close to my chest, and stick out my tongue at the man, only to have it held firmly between

his lips. "I've wanted to do that for a long time now," my father-in-law said inside my mouth. I dropped the baby, grabbed his head, and we fell to the floor in a fit of passion.