A wife comes home late one night and quietly opens the door to her bedroom. As she glances toward the bed, she sees something that makes her heart race: four legs under the blanket, not just her husband’s two. Gripped by shock and suspicion, she grabs a baseball bat and begins to strike the blanket furiously. She doesn’t stop until she’s sure whatever is under there is no longer a threat.
Breathing heavily, she puts the bat down and walks out of the room, still feeling the rush of adrenaline. She heads to the kitchen to grab a drink, hoping to calm her nerves. But as she steps into the kitchen, her eyes widen in disbelief.
There, sitting at the table, is her husband, completely unaware of what just happened. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, looking up in confusion.
The wife stares at him for a moment before turning back toward the bedroom. Her heart still pounding, she mutters under her breath, “Then who the heck was in our bed?”
