VULNERABILITY

I was reading in the bath this morning when the Old Girl came in. This is not unusual as she often does this to have a chat or ask me if I want  coffee or tea. What was unusual was that she was carrying, and actually sharpening, a very large carving knife.

Immediately, thoughts came into my mind of what I've done. Did she notice that I copped a look at the waitress's breasts at dinner the other night? Was it because I had told her this morning that I am giving up work? Had she just read through the insurance policy?

I quietly (in a rising falsetto) asked her what she was doing with the knife. "Oh" she said looking at it as if she had only noticed that she had it in her hand "nothing, just sharpening it to cut up the lamb steaks for a casserole".

"You're not going to stab me with it then" I asked.
She said "I really don't think I could stab anyone. It's not in me" all the while having the bloody great knife pointed at my nether region. "Well as long as it's not in me either" I thought before saying, "why don't you go and make us a nice cup of tea".