How stressful! Conchita was worried sick. Her husband was away for the afternoon and she was a mess. When he came home she had to tell him; she was in love with another man and she was going off with him. His name was Rex. As far as Conchita was concerned, her marriage was over.
Conchita’s husband arrived home. “Honey,” he said, “I’ve something to tell you. I went to the doctor’s this afternoon and I’ve got cancer. It’s terminal. I’ve been given three weeks at the most.”
Oh the relief!
Weave a Web 
Man, dodged a bullet with that one.
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Those who can dance are better at dodging bullets… !
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It’s all in the perspective. One person’s bad news is another person’s figurative lottery win.
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win
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I’m usually on the wrong end of the stick!
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Why do I have this feeling Conchita’s husband is lying, and he is going to kill her right here in this corner, bang in the middle of the day, of course under a name. The no-name guy is a dead giveaway, is he not?
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Oh you are too suspicious! You never mentioned the poisonous toadstools that Conchita had concealed in the evening’s dessert.
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Is Rex the doctor by any chance?
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You should write a sequel every day!
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I admit that one didn’t go the way I expected. I thought Conchita’s husband was about to tell her he was running off with a man named Rex.
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There’s a novel in there somewhere.
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You should write it!
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I really have to get off my bottom and produce that masterpiece – and remove your novel from the #1 spot on Amazon…
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You never hold back!
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