Holding Hayley's Purse

I've been holding this purse
For two and a half hours

I have held bowling balls
I have held dumbbells
I have held some really fat babies

And this purse
Is killing me

I don't make a comment
Because today is Sunday
Which means today is bonding day
Which means today is Hayley's day
Which means today we bond over my misery
While she spends my money

That's what that means

I dare not look in the purse
For fear a live raccoon will jump out at me

I imagine everything else
That could possibly be in there

Lead bricks
Stone tablets
Car parts

I remember my mother's purse
A simple little thing

She could fit two aspirin in it
And a compact

Thanks to designers
Women can carry so much more now
And by 'women can carry'
I mean 'men can carry for women'
Because I swear to God
Hayley never takes this purse out with her
Unless we're going shopping
And then she neglects it
Such as a Manhattan mother
Might neglect her young

Yes, thank you designers
Gay designers
Gay designers who hate straight men
And produce over-sized bags
You can fit a small bookshelf in

I'll be holding this bag for the rest of my life
Or some sort of bag at least
Some sort of trendy expensive bag

The ironic part?

I buy these bags for her

Every Christmas she asks for a bag like this
And I buy it for her

It's like I'm buying my own torture device
I'm paying for my own thumb rack

It's really something
What a woman you love
Can convince you to do

Oh no...

She just saw the sale sign
Outside Shawn J's

We're going to die here

I'm going to die holding this bag

Someday future scientists
Will find my skeleton
Clutching this behemoth
And they'll see that ancient man
Was ruled
By his woman