*All Clear*

So, so tempted to fuck with my wife right now.

She just left to take a tour of an old psychiatric hospital about two hours away. This takes place in an old dilapitated building that is no longer fit to serve the public. It's supposed to be pretty trippy.

The tour starts at 10 PM.

You have to take your own flashlight.

Right now I should be texting the All Clear signal to about four different people.

Right now I should be painting the front door of the house a drastically different color. I should be screwing vanity address numbers into the facade. I should be unwrapping a stupid sign, something about Bewaring of Cats.

My co-conspirators would arrive and start dismantling the house. Loading the furniture into a truck and whisking it away. Bringing in new. Hanging things on the wall, things like, "God Bless This Happy Home".

We would have a solid five hours to do all this.

But I should have started even earlier. I should have had about thirty different people saying things like, "Have you ever seen Logan's Run?" to her all week, just something random. She'd ask me if they were making a remake, why was everyone talking about it. I'd catch her looking it up on her tablet.

While my wife is taking the tour someone would use the key I had provided to move her vehicle.

Nothing drastic, just a few spaces.

During the tour my wife will be included in group photos. Unbeknownst to her the people included will have already taken these photos earlier this week without her. Later, somewhere down the spiral, my wife will look to social media to prove she was in these pictures. Social media will fail her.

On the way back she would pass three different hitchhikers, all wearing the same thing so it'd always look like the same person.

I would call the local NPR branch and have them mention her name on the air as a non sequitur. Her traveling partners would have been instructed not to respond to this.

I think by this time she would definitely conclude that something isn't quite right.

One by one, she will drop the passengers off at their houses, slowly making her way back home.

She will be very tired by then.

When she finally arrives home, she will wonder where my car is. She will call me. But I had already deleted my number from her phone. Risky, I know, what if she calls earlier than that? Not likely, I'd been feigning exhaustion all day- coming down with something.

When she dials my number someone else will answer. In Spanish? No, just some evil drawl that doesn't appreciate being woken up.

She will be standing on the porch wondering what the hell is going on.

Her keys will not work.

Some little old lady will answer the door. I don't think my wife would flip out on an old lady.

I don't think.

"Is there someone I can call, dear?" the old lady will say, as my wife sits in what she thought was her living room, only just that day. True, there wouldn't be time to repaint the interior, but placing pictures of strangers everywhere wouldn't take but fifteen minutes.

Desperately, she will call my number once again.

Someone else will answer.

"Have you ever seen Logan's Run?"

All this to convince my wife she's crazy.

But she may have all ready beaten me to the punch.

She married me.