A Hysterical Husband

We locked Charles

In the upstairs bedroom

Because he was ranting

And raving

About wanting the vote

The vote!

Can you imagine

Such a notion?

Men voting?

As if they wouldn’t simply

Sign off on all the wars

And unneeded machinery

Poor Charles

He hasn’t been doing well

As of late

And I suspect the hysteria

Has overtaken him

He insists that I’m conducting

Extramarital affairs

With every Tom, Dick, and Elizabeth

And no matter how much I assure him

That monogamy is just a construct

Made up by religious zealots

And that my affairs with Tom, Dick, and Elizabeth

Are not affairs at all

But healthy variations on the relationship

I share with him

He screams that I’m a harlot

And tries to strike me

Which of course

Leads to me using my childhood combat training on him

And that’s how his windpipe was bruised

I don’t enjoy harming my husband

Especially knowing that he’s unwell

But what’s the alternative?

Allowing him to harm me instead?

What an idea

Besides, I had him subdued

In under a minute

Tied to the upstairs bed

And I summoned the doctor

Shortly after that

The doctor recommended

Closing all the curtains

And putting up some lovely

Pink wallpaper in the bedroom

So Charles could be lulled into a restful sleep

Sadly, he’s been fighting slumber

And just last night

He screamed into the wee hours of the morning

Asking why he isn’t allowed to have a bank account

Or own property

Or have a say in how many children we have

I’ve never heard such disturbing nonsense

And I attribute it to the propaganda he hears

Down at the billiards hall

Which is why as soon as he’s well again

I shall forbid him from spending any more evenings there

And write a stern letter to the local paper

About the goings-on at that lascivious establishment

The physician also suggested

Some healing of the more...adult variety

But I object to taking Charles against his will

And at the moment

He flails so while tied to the bed

That attempting to heal him with my womanhood

Would be the equivalent of mounting

A bucking Bronco

If Broncos could spout sexist ideologies

And beg for a copy of Hemingway’s latest drivel

It certainly was never my goal

To have a hysterical husband

Charles seemed like the most progressive man

When he was standing in a line

Of husbands to choose from

Admittedly, my first choice was Lewis

But my sister nabbed him

And now she’s running for the Senate

And he looks so dapper standing silently beside her

At all her campaign rallies

But Charles did seem like a solid second best

And now the servants refuse to travel to the second floor

For fear they’ll pass the bedroom

While he’s running through his list of chosen obscenities

And conspiracy theories

The doctor herself nearly fainted

When Charles asked for a male doctor

To tend to him

A male doctor!

He might as well have asked

For a unicorn with a lab coat

I do so hope he recovers from this

But if he doesn’t

I shall have to be much more careful

When I choose my next spouse

It seems most sensible

To ask for the hand of Elizabeth

Since men seem to be, as a whole,

Getting more and more

Unstable these days

Good mental character

Is important in a marriage

And I can’t risk

Taking on

Another hysterical, bed-ridden,

Mustachioed loose cannon

Like Charles again

I mean, honestly

With all a woman like me

Has on her plate

There’s simply no time in the day

For worrying

Over a man