Itís one of two things. Either my wife is making a conscious effort to kick me out of the bedroom, or else her body has been invaded by aliens.
   There are no other explanations. Nothing else makes sense. You donít just start snoring like a drunken sailor at her age. 115 pound women canít produce those sounds without something else going on.
    If sheís trying to get rid of me, itís not working. As of this morning, I have yet to move to the living room couch or another bedroom, as many couples do when faced with similar circumstances. And thereís been many a morning when she wakes to see me looking over her, chanting "Hell no, I wonít go! Hell no, I wonít go!"
    But I donít think she wants me out, anyway. I think the aliens that invaded her body want me out. Iíve studied her sweet, beautiful face while she sleeps, listening to the guttural, horrific sounds emanating from her petite little body, and have only wondered what miserable little creatures are living inside her.
    Thatís why Iím thinking of hiring a priest to come over and do that exorcism thing. Iím tired of turning over in the middle of the night expecting to see her head facing me and her body facing the other direction. It hasnít happened yet, but Iím sure it will.
    This all began a couple of years ago. Until then, I was the one who snored occasionally. My wife slept like a baby, never making a sound. Then it began. I would nudge her gently, she would wake, and I would announce in no uncertain terms that she was snoring like an overweight 80 year old man.
    "I am not snoring," she would sleepily reply. "I didnít hear anything."
    "Let me explain," Iíd answer. "YOUíRE ASLEEP! You canít hear yourself snore."
    This went on for a couple of months. She refused to believe she could be a snorer. Only when she woke up one morning to see me with a tape recorder held above her, which I quickly replayed, did she finally believe.
    At first, we tried some basic remedies. I bought her some Breathe-Right strips that you place on your nose to open the nasal passage. A lot of professional football players wear them. Unfortunately, there were two problems: 1) they didnít work, and 2) I felt like I was sleeping with Jerry Rice.
    As the aliens inside her multiplied, and the gentle nudgings in the middle of the night became more like shoves, it was clear that the snoring wasnít going to miraculously disappear (at least not without a priest). It was time for me to take the next stepóear plugs.
   I contacted the U.S. Air Force to see what the pilots of F-14 Tomcats wore. I couldnít get an answer, so I tried the drug store instead. I bought every style available, just in case I wanted to double up.
   Thatís where we stand now. My wife drifts off to sleep and I wait for the first bizarre noises to blast from her side of the bed. Sometimes it takes three or four minutes, but come they will. Iíll give her a good nudge, just for old timeís sake, and then Iíll reach for my ear plugs.
   As I lie awake fiddling with my ears to get the plugs just right, I think about what it would cost to get a priest to do his exorcism thing. Iím not a member of any church, so I doubt Iíd get a freebie, but who knows?
   Then I start to think of ways to defray the cost. My wife quite often likes to take short naps in the afternoon. If I could convince her to take one every day at exactly 4:00, I could easily get $12.95 per person for admission to our bedroom to hear noises that couldnít possibly come from a beautiful 115 pound woman.
   Itís not a huge bedroom, but I could probably get 30 people crowded around the bed. Thatís $388.50 per concert, and if sheís particularly tired, I might be able to get two shows per day
   The only problem is that revenues might suffer because it wouldnít be appropriate to admit anyone under 18. Far too scary.




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