The Wife Whisperer: The Case of the Recalcitrant Wife

[After commercials for OxiClean, L'Oreal, Progressive Insurance, Dr. Gunderson’s Treatment for Restless Leg Syndrome, and Vonage’s Cheap Telephone Service, a small, somewhat paunchy, fawn-colored man with a wispy black mustache and beard, eases sinuously through a pair of swinging doors and enters into a shabby living room. He smiles toothily at the camera which slowly focuses in on his face where it lingers for 30 seconds or so as an electronic drumbeat gradually segues in. The man speaks]

Buenos dias mes amigos. I am Franceesco de Peento y Olbermann. I am also known as [pauses dramatically] — THE WIFE WHEESPERER

[After an additional pause for the information to sink in, he continues]

Today we take up the case of Malcolm Barff and hees latest consort, Grenada Rodham Barff. Meester Barff has prior experiences in the handling of "Mujeres de Casa," or Wives, as you greengos call them. Over years he has taken under hees weeng and onto hees futon a number of such individuals of various breeds obtained from such outlets as the ASPCM (American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Men), Mr. Mike’s Convenience Store in Peterborough, New Hampshire, Craigslist, and seelect pornography sites and dating services.
    Hees previous wife to thees was a meexed Mexican Hairless-German Shepherd-Italian Greyhound beetch who succumb, alas, to a childhood eellness in her kennel after consuming a whole roasting cheecken that she wash down weeth a can of Jolt. According to Meester Barff, other than an occasional few days before and after an abortion, she was a docile and affectionate wife her only fault being a tendency to put on weight once she deescover how to open refrigerator without asseestance.
    Several days after her mos’ sad departure and burial in the Jaffrey Pet Cemetery, Meester Barff, whacked weeth grief, find heemself wand’ring in lingerie section of the Reenge, New Hampshire, Walmart whereupon what should he hoppen to espy across the aisle but a large female squatting een front of a deesplay of Vitamin Water not far from the cookie and candy shelves.
    As you can see [nods towards Mrs. Barff who is sitting on a sofa with Mister Barff at her feet] thees particular wife ees a large specimen wheech I deduce to be part Siberian husky and part Eenglish bull terrier weeth an aftertaste of Wolf. Note ‘specially the powerful muzzle weeth its eempressive set of fangs and the wide, heavily-muscled haunches. Eet ees thees las’ feature as well the soulful eyes and damp nose that Meester Barff says led him to take pity upon her and invite her to share hees casa.

[The Wife Whisperer beckons to Mr. Barff. Mr. Barff, a bald, heavyset man in his fifties, creaks stiffly to his feet and joins The Wife Whisperer at the microphone]

WW: Now, mi amigo, perhops you weel please to deescribe in you’ own words the problems you are having weeth you’ new beetch.

Mr. B: [Glances anxiously at his wife before speaking and continues to do so frequently as he talks].Well, Francisco, everything went well between me and Grenada for several weeks after I took her in... other than the usual few problems with any new wife.

WW: Such as?

Mr. B: Oh — you know — crouching alongside me at the dinner table and begging for food; forgetting herself and going to the bathroom on the living room rug; chewing on my bedroom slippers...The usual problems.

WW: I see. And when did you start to notice a change in her behaviors.

Mr. B: It was full moon, a month after I acquired her. She had been unusually withdrawn and — how shall I say — moody.

WW: Can you please to be more expleecit as to these seemptoms?

Mr. B: [Glances nervously at his wife] Well, Frank — it’s all right if I call you Frank, isn’t it?

WW: [Firmly] No, eet ees not all right Meester Barff. Please to continue weeth you’ explications.

Mr. B: Oh. Okay. Fine. Well, Franceesco...I mean Francisco...the first sign of trouble was at breakfast when she growled at me as I set a dish of sausages and eggs sunny-side-up in front of her. Apparently I had over-cooked the eggs — she prefers the whites to be transparent and runny so she can suck them up through a straw.

WW: Was that her only reaction — growling?

Mr. B: Unfortunately no. When I apologized for my egg-cooking misstep and started to pet her and scratch her jowls and under the ears to soothe her feelings, rather than calm down, her hackles rose and she sank her teeth into my hand.

[Mr. Barff exhibits a heavily bandaged hand to the Wife Whisperer and the television camera]

WW: Were there other misfortunate hoppenings that day?

Mr. B: Yes sir. That same evening, I asked her if she’d like me to order a pepperoni and jalapeno pizza from Grapelli’s for dinner to mark the anniversary of our first month together. Instead of licking my hand and whimpering gratefully as I expected, a vicious snarl twisted her face and before I knew what was happening she went for my throat. [He shows the Wife Whisperer an angry red scar on his neck] After I peeled her off, she launched into a tirade about the cruelty of men and their lack of understanding of a woman’s needs.

WW: Deed you make inquirings as to the causes of her piques?

Mr. B: It was difficult speaking while the blood was flowing, but I did manage to ask what was bothering her.

WW: And deed she make the reesponces?

Mr. B: She would only say, "You know."

WW: What hoppen then?

Mr. B: The ambulance arrived and after some delay, got me to the emergency room at Monadnock Community Hospital.

WW: Delay?

Mr. B: Yes sir. The hospital has been putting in a new series of roads and traffic circles and parking lots for the last several years and nobody can find his way around the maze.

WW: Thank you Meester Barff. [Nods wisely]. I am begeening to see a peecture formulating here. You haf to unnerstan’ that a wife ees a pack animal. Eef she do not have an Alpha in her pack, she weel, of necessity, become an Alpha herself. The husban’ mus’ never ask "would you like a pepperoni and jalapeno pizza?". He mus’ say instead, "Tonight we have pepperoni and jalapeno pizza whether you like it of not, beetch."

Mr. B: [glancing with terror at his wife who is glaring furiously at both him and the Wife Whisperer] I...I don’t think that’s such a good idea Francisco.

WW: Then perhaps you mus’ adopt another strategies. I suggest you start with a choke collar when you take her for walks.

[Mr. Barff’s wife has risen and is coming at the Wife Whisperer. The Wife Whisperer spots the approaching woman out of the corner of his eye.]

WW: [Shouting] The Taser André! The Taser! Queeck, the Taser!

[André, a huge, powerful man who resembles Dick Butkus, bursts into the room and fires off a few rounds of Taser darts one of which hits Mr. Barff’s wife, the others Mr. Barff and the Wife Whisperer. As all three writhe in agony on the living room floor, the sound of an electronic drum beat comes on in the background and an announcer’s voice comes on in voiceover.]

ANNOUNCER: Thanks for watching Part I of this two-part series of THE WIFE WHISPERER. Be sure to join us next week or next month or sometime or other on the National Geographic Channel to find out how THE WIFE WHISPERER solves the  Case of The Recalcitrant Wife — providing he and Mr. and Mrs. Barff have been discharged from the hospital and given clearance by the relevant surgeons, X-ray technicians, and malpractice lawyers.

Norm Mack, Peterborough, dog@myfairpoint.net 

ATTENTION MEN:
    
•For online help with your wife or girlfriend click ASK THE WIFE WHISPERER
    •For the latest episode of The Wife Whisperer, click THE WIFE WHISPERER II 

 

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