Sicilian Housewife gives her Husband two Black Eyes

Hubby and I had just flopped blissfully into bed from parenting-induced exhaustion. When our kiddo has a cold, he makes sure the suffering is dished out fairly and evenly among all persons present. I believe some people can finish running a marathon with more energy than we had after a day of making lemon and honey, fetching tissues, running warm bubble baths and giving “morale-boosting cuddles” to our nine-year-old.

It was going to be like this...
It was going to be like this…

I decided to lean over and kiss Hubby goodnight on the cheek before collapsing unconscious. (Once you’ve become a parent, a peck on the cheek is sometimes all you want from your Latin Lover.)

...or perhaps this...
…or perhaps this…

It was dark. It was PITCH dark. As I raised myself blindly on one elbow and lunged over towards Hubby’s dear, stubbly face resting on his pillow, my head was abruptly halted by a solid object in mid-air. There was a heart-stoppingly loud cracking sound, like railway sleepers splitting in a fire, followed by shrieks of pain from Hubby.

The solid object had been Hubby’s bonce. He had decided at that very moment to lean over towards me and give me a little goodnight peck on the cheek, too.

I personally have a skull so thick it makes that of a Doberman look fragile. I could probably use it to smash reinforced concrete. I suffered no tangible damage from the impact other than mild whiplash injury to the neck.

Meanwhile Hubby was not faring so well. We conducted an emergency check of his proud Roman nose to see if it was broken, which basically consisted of me getting hold of it and wagging it slowly from side to side. It seemed firmly fixed on in a way I would describe as geostationary, but the tears were streaming down hubby’s cheeks from sheer agony and there was swelling around his eyes which inflated by the second.

0Next I made him sit up facing me and follow my finger with both eyes as I moved it from side to side. I was pretty sure his eyes were moving independently of each other and that the left one was basically turning outwards whilst the right one had a tendency to drift towards the heavens.

He started swaying around alarmingly at this point, so I hastily made him lie down flat again.

105639492-c8aad292-10a2-49ec-a4db-2e9c6afc987aBy the morning his eyes could hardly open and he looked as if he had been lynched by a gang armed with bicycle chains and hammers. The whole upper half of his face was aubergine coloured with flecks of bright blue, and a few blood blisters bulging under the skin. His nose was red and purple. He appeared to have a mild concussion, and he definitely had two black eyes.

Yes, folks. I blacked both his eyes at once.


What Hubby looked like in the morning
What Hubby looked like in the morning


“I think I should take you to hospital,” I suggested, anxiously.

“No way,” he insisted. “I just need a paracetamol and I’ll be fine.”

173340362-368efeb1-8489-464e-bcae-c05ef8fdd5e2He waved me away as I fretted over him, tried to spoon-feed him breakfast, and followed him into the bathroom so I could catch him if he fainted. I think he really wanted to keep me at arms’ length, just in case I tried to make any more overt gestures of affection.

I heard him let out a gasp of pain as he rammed his crash helmet on downstairs, then the familiar roar of his motorbike as he zoomed off towards the main road into Palermo.

141933-thumb-full-baciI phoned him at work when I estimated he should have arrived. Apparently he had been greeted with gasps of shock from all his colleagues, and bombarded with questions about how he had been injured. Everyone assumed he had been knocked off his motorbike.

He works in the Palermo Palace of Justice, and a couple of the baristers he knows well offered him free legal representation if he needed to sue anyone.

hqdefault“No, actually my wife did it to me,” he told them all, trying to hide his glee. One of his colleagues, whose identity I shall protect with the code name Gullible Galioto, responded,

“Oh, I’m so sorry! She seems so normal when you meet her socially.” Hubby just raised one of his maroon, bloated eyebrows and said nothing.

“I didn’t realise she was secretly a psycho,” Gullible Galioto went on.

“Oh, yes,” Hubby replied casually. “All English women are like that, actually.”

I love you darling. Good night.
I love you darling. Good night.

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13 Comments Add yours

  1. Pecora Nera says:

    “I just need a paracetamol and I’ll be fine.” He sounds very English, most Italians would be off to the emergency dept

    Liked by 1 person

    1. He’s much more English than me! You should see what a repressed tiz he gets into when he thinks we’re going to be late somewhere.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Pecora Nera says:

        It is amazing isn’t it, Mrs Sensible is as English as can be, she shuns lemon in her tea and prefers milk and like your hubby she gets in a tiz if we are late or too early

        Liked by 1 person

      2. We thought we were marrying laid back, easy-going cheats like ourselves, didn’t we? We should complain!

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Lena Sbeglia says:

    That is so funny – I was chuckling throughout your whole written experience. It was the first thing I read after getting up this Labor Day morning and it made my day. Your funny,

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Lena Sbeglia says:

    There was a typo “You’re funny”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Suzanne says:

    I love laughing first thing in the morning! Thanks, Veronica!!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. onomatopoeicbliss says:

    What I wanna know, is . . . if you have to put plastic gloves on to touch an eggplant, how did you ever conceive that baby?!!😲😁😂😅😂😅

    Seriously, though, how could people not know you are a psycho?

    I hope you thought this story through, though. I think it is going to greatly reduce the number of Dudes trying to arrange a ‘meet & greet’ with you the next time Hubby travels.😋

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ha ha! Those hands in latex gloves are actually the doctor in teh ER examining my husband’s actual, real face!!! 😉 😛

      And you’re right, it’s amazing how many people don’t realise I am a psycho. Sicilians often mistake my silence for weakness. They forget that you never plot a murder out loud….

      Liked by 1 person

  6. DeCArmine says:

    Reminds me of a Greek Easter game where you tap each others egg end to end to see who cracks first. You won. Give your husband a rematch at Easter- eggs only. Another note, my friend is married to a Roman (born and raised in Rome). He is the most shy and non complaining Italian I have ever met. I always ask Carlo if he’s really Italian. Takes pain quietly, never yells, etc. I guess we all stereotype to a certain degree.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, doing round two with Easter eggs sounds like a great idea! If I head-butt my poor Hubby like that one more time I might give him brain damage!
      You’re right, we do stereotype – there are always exceptions. My husband says I am as un-English as he is un-Italian.


  7. haha reminds me of the time I went on a first date with a guy I really liked, as I sat on his car my skirt became tangled on the seat belt as I was pulling on the fabric, and he was bending to try to see what was the problem, my arm sprung free and I gave him a split lip, as you can imagine, that was the first and last date for us!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ha ha! I love that story, exactly the kind of thing I would do!
      Actually my hubby did something to me with the car a few years ago.
      We were putting things in the boot and, just when it was ready to close, I looked in to check something was placed right, and he smashed the lid down on my head!
      I was seeing stars the whole way home!!!


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