Sasee Magazine

“Hey, Honey, the insurance representative is coming to the office tomorrow,” my husband, Eric, said. “I’m going to double my life insurance policy, OK?”

“Double it? Do you really think we need that much?”

Eric nodded. “Well, since we got married, we’ve doubled the size of our family, so I figured you’d need double the money if something ever happened to me.”

“I don’t even want to think about anything happening to you,” I said, giving him a hug.

“But if something ever did happen, you’d be one wealthy widow.”

“I don’t care about that. Nothing is worth more to me than you are,” I said.

He grinned. “Oh, Honey, I’m worth a whole lot more to you dead than I am alive.”

“No way, Eric,” I said, shaking my head. “Not in any way that matters.”

Two days later, I stopped into Eric’s office with his lunch. “I brought you a cheeseburger and fries,” I said, setting the fast food bag on his desk. “I was going to bake some chicken at home, but I ran out of time.” I shrugged. “I guess it won’t kill you to eat this stuff once in a while.”

Eric grinned and took a huge bite out of the burger. “Mmm,” he groaned. “Why can’t I just eat this way every day?”

“Umm, let me think. Ever heard of triglycerides?” I teased with a grin.

A few days later, I strongly encouraged – OK, forced – my children to sort through their very-soon-to-be-too-old-to-eat Easter candy and get rid of the stuff they weren’t planning to eat. My daughter put several packages of Smarties in her “don’t want” pile.

“Oh, those are Daddy’s favorite,” I said, scooping them up. And pretty soon, all of the “don’t want” piles became “give to Daddy” piles. By the time the last of the candy was sorted, Eric had been gifted with several thousand calories worth of marshmallow bunnies, speckled eggs and those you-either-love-them-or-hate-them Peeps – in a variety of colors and shapes.

The kids were so excited about their “present” that they begged me to take them to their dad’s office so they could give it to him.

When he saw the huge bag of junk food we’d brought him, he said, “Wow, that’s a whole lot of candy. Thanks, you guys.” But to me, he said, “Holy Cow, I’ll never be able to eat that much junk! I’d have heart burn for a month!” That’s what he told me, but I’m sure I saw him gazing at those purple Peeps with longing in his eyes.

Later that week, I was out running errands, so I stopped by Eric’s office with a chocolate milk shake. “Surprise,” I said. “I brought you a little treat.”

But instead of taking the shake from me, Eric caught his co-worker’s eye and chuckled.

“What did I miss?” I asked.

Eric looked at me and shrugged sheepishly. “Well, Honey, my buddy Aaron here has a little theory.”

“Oh, yeah, what’s that?” I said, turning to Aaron.

Aaron said, “Well, I overheard Eric talking to the insurance rep the other day, so I know he doubled his life insurance amount.” He grinned. “And now I’ve been watching you guys over the last week or so, and I think you’ve got Eric on the fast track.”

“The fast track? What does that mean?”

Eric put his arm around me and said, “He thinks you’re trying to kill me.”

My mouth dropped open, but Aaron didn’t give me a chance to speak. “Seriously, think about it, Diane,” he said. “There’s actually quite a bit of evidence to support my theory. Two weeks ago, you were baking chicken and lecturing Eric about triglycerides. Then this week, you’re feeding him cheeseburgers, French fries and chocolate shakes, not to mention that enormous bag of expired Easter candy. And what did your all-too-trusting husband do just last week?”

“I doubled my life insurance policy,” Eric finished. He rolled his eyes at me and grinned. “He thinks you’ve decided to speed up the inevitable by feeding me a bunch of junk food. He thinks you’re hoping I’ll have a heart attack and wind up in an early grave.”

“You know, to get your loot sooner,” Aaron finished with a grin.

“I…well, I don’t even know what to say,” I sputtered.

But Aaron wasn’t finished. He looked me up and down and said, “If you can manage to kill off this old guy in three to five years, you’ll still be young enough to get re-married.” He tapped his wrist and said, “But the clock is ticking. You’d better step it up.”

I laughed because I couldn’t help myself. “So by ‘step it up,’ you mean try even harder to kill off poor Eric, right?”

“Well, yeah, of course. Why feed him a double cheeseburger when you can give him a triple?” He gestured toward the cup in my hand. “And no more medium-sized shakes. If you are serious about getting this thing done, you’ve got to super-size every thing he eats.”

“But then I’ll super-size him, and I like him slim and trim,” I said. “And alive, Aaron. I like him alive.”

Eric smiled at his friend. “See, there’s no master plan to get rid of me.” His grin grew bigger. “She’d rather have me than all that cash.”

“Whoa, hang on a minute here,” I said, holding up my hands. “Exactly how much cash are we talking about?”

Eric’s mouth dropped open. “Baby, how could you?”

“Oh, I’m only kidding,” I said, hugging him again. “Why would I need a million bucks when I already have you? I don’t need that money because you make me feel like a million bucks.”

Eric smiled sweetly and said, “And now you’ve discovered my master plan.”