In each relationship, there is a critical incident that can be held against one partner for the rest of the time the two people are together. This incident will still win points in an argument 20-odd years down the rack, and can also be used as emotional blackmail when one of the partners needs a back rub, the washing up done, or another piece of jewellery. The partner who committed the crime cannot ever apologise enough, and should just accept their fate with humility. The person who it was committed against can claim martyr points at any time because they have stayed and loved the other person, despite the fact that the other person has committed a heinous crime.

Joel committed "the Salami incident" on New Years Eve, and I'm not about to let him forget it. So far, I have had an extra back rub, ownership of the remote control, and even got the grass cut out the back. And he still keeps saying sorry. I'm wondering how long I can milk it.

Salami. We both love the stuff. We buy extra these days because we have to pay "Dog Tax" on salami like we have to pay "Cat tax" on tuna. It never lasts for the two weeks between shopping days and as its so expensive, we have to ration it fairly carefully.

On New Year's Eve, we did a mini-shop. A mini-shop is not the fortnightly stocking of the cupboards, but a trek to get those necessities that don't last a fortnight or would have dire consequences if we ran out - bread, milk, chocolate, critter food. While we were there, we also got some New Year munchies. As we were passing the deli section, I asked Joel if we needed extra salami. He was adamant that we had "heaps" (I knew I hadn't had any yet), so I let it go.

When we got home, Joel discovered, much to his chagrin, there wasn't as much as he thought. However throughout the night, he kept munching on salami cheese and gherkin rolls. He did offer some to me, but as the vinegar sets of my asthma, I politely declined. Fluffy was being her normal self, but kept going into the kitchen once she heard the fridge door opening. The land-shark (Shmogg) was also hovering, so I assume both were getting their due percentage, Fluffy in salami, Shmoggleberry in "plastic" cheese.

At some point, I wander into the kitchen as Joel was fixing himself yet another snack. Fluffy was there, doing her "sad sack" impersonations. She can't do the half-starved waif act of a cat, but the pathetic, unloved look works just as well. Joel is dancing around with a slice of salami dangling enticingly in his fingers. Fluffy is making a lovely pool of dog-spit on the floor and is doing her level best to give him those wonderful doggy-eyes.

"Who wants the last bit of Salami", he teases Fluffy. "Who wants it then?" "Daddy's got the last Salami? Who wants it?"

As I start to say "I haven't had any yet" as he tosses the last bit of delicious, spicy, bloody expensive and absolutely yummy salami to the dog, who does a wonderful jerk-and-snap to catch it in her teeth.

While Fluff is munching in doggy heaven, my words slowly register in Joel's brain. While its getting through the wool, I try to speed it up by growling "I didn't eat *any* of that."

It dawns on Joel exactly what he's just done. I pretend to be grossly offended. "You'd give the last piece of salami to the *dog* before you even think of me?" I sputter in mock anger.

He bends down and rips a small soggy portion from the side of Fluffy's mouth. "Its not all gone" he says, "you can have this". As the last words slip from his mouth he realises that the hole he's dug himself has just gotten bigger.

By now, I'm trying very hard not to giggle. "Yuck! That's even worse" I say to the soggy dog-spitted morsel Joel is trying to offer me. Fluffy is looking up at the last bit of the last slice of the salami, wondering why its not in her mouth. "You love you dog even more than you love me!"

Joel stammers "But I didn't even see you there!" to which I reply "So you were going to eat all the salami without even telling me. Thanks!". "You would have done the same," Joel tries to squirm. "Maybe, but I would have asked you first!" I spit, hoping to be cobra-like with venom

At this point I ask him if he wants a shovel, it makes digging deep holes easier.

Joel, by this time, realises that whatever excuse he makes now will just make it worse. "I'm sorry" he says, eyes down, "I'm sorry..."

I'm a bitch, I admit it, but I had him on a skewer and he couldn't wiggle off (usually its the other ways round).

"Come on Fluffy, lets go to bed and snuggle. You are obviously the *important* person in the house. I think I'll love you instead. Come on Fluffy, and you can even have all the pillows" (pillows being another permanent point of contention in this house).

"I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry".

I couldn't help it, after all that, after watching him realise he had dug himself deeper and deeper, seeing him squirm and wriggle, I had to laugh. He didn't quite know what to do at first, but I think he worked out that I had seen the funny side (well, I'd seen it from the start, but it wouldn't have been half as much fun) and started to laugh at his own misfortune too.

He's forgiven now, but I haven't forgotten it. One of my fingers looks kind of bare and needs some extra decoration. That sapphire one will do nicely. "The Salami Incident" will serve me well into the future. Bwahahahaha!

Copyright © Vicky Chapman
January 1, 2000