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On the first day, she sadly packed her possessions into boxes, crates and suitcases.
On the second day, she had all her belongings taken away by a removal company.
On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful teak dining-room table. She put on some soothing background music and dined alone by candlelight on a plate of shrimps, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of spring-water.
When she had finished, she went into every room and inserted a few half-eaten shrimps dipped in caviar into the hollow centre of the curtain rods.
She then cleaned up the kitchen and, with a final 'goodbye' left the house.
On the fourth day, the husband moved in with his new girlfriend, and at first it was all beautiful harmony.
Then, slowly, the house began to smell.
They tried everything: cleaning, mopping, and airing-out the whole house.
The vents were thoroughly checked for dead rodents, and all the carpets were steam cleaned.
Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to fumigate the whole house, during which time the two lovebirds had to move out for several days. They even paid to have their expensive wool carpeting replaced. But nothing they tried worked. The house still reeked.
Suddenly, people stopped coming to call.
Repairmen refused to do any work in the house.
The maid quit.
Finally, they could not bear the smell any longer and decided they had to move out. But a month later - even though they'd cut the price by a half - they still could not find a buyer for such a smelly house.
Word began to spread, and in time even the local realtors refused to visit or to return their calls.
Unable to wait a moment longer for a purchaser, they had to borrow a really enormous sum of money from their bank to buy a new house.
Then the ex-wife called the man and enquired how things were going. He told her the grim story of the stinking house. She listened quietly and replied that she was missing her old home terribly and would be quite prepared to reduce her final divorce settlement in exchange for buying back the house she loved.
Knowing she could have no possible idea of how awful this smell was, he accepted her offer and settled on a sale figure that was a tenth of what the property had initially been priced at ... but only if she signed the papers that same day.
She concurred, and within two hours her lawyer delivered the completed paperwork.
A week later the ex-husband and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched a moving company pack their possessions to take to their new abode.
And, just to spite the ex-wife, they even took the curtain rods.
I just love a happy ending, don't you?
Charles and Helen Stevens weren't able to conceive children and eventually decided to use the services of a surrogate father to kick-start their family.
On the day that the proxy father was due to arrive, Charles kissed his wife and said, 'I'm off to work now. The man should be here shortly.'
Half an hour later, by chance, a travelling baby-photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to clinch a sale on the off-chance. 'Good morning, Ma'am', he said, 'I have come to...'
'There's no need to explain,' the embarrassed Helen cut in; 'I've been expecting you.'
'Have you?' said the photographer. 'Well, that's, er... good. Did you know that babies were my specialty, then?'
'Well that's what my husband and I had hoped,' blushed Helen. 'Please come in and have a seat!
'Well,' she said, awkwardly, 'where do we... start?'
'Just leave everything to me,' he said, 'I normally try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed after. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there.'
'Goodness me! Bathtub, the living room floor? No wonder it has never worked out for Charles and me!'
'I must stress that none of us can guarantee a successful one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be highly delighted with the results.'
'Gosh, that's rather a lot!' gasped Helen.
'Well, in my line of work a man must take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that.'
'Don't I know it,' muttered Helen wryly.
The photographer then opened his briefcase and extracted a portfolio of his baby pictures.
'This one here was done on the top of a bus,' he said.
'Good heavens!' Helen exclaimed, clutching her throat.
'And these twins turned out extremely well - when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.'
'Difficult?' asked Helen.
'She certainly was. In the end I had to suggest taking her to the park to get the job done right. The people were crowding round four and five deep to get a decent look.'
'Four and five deep?' gasped Helen, her eyes wide with disbelief.
'Yes', the photographer replied. 'And for more than three hours! The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Then, when some squirrels suddenly began nibbling my equipment, I just had to pack it all in.'
Helen leaned forward. 'Huh? They actually chewed on your... equipment?'
'Sure did; that was a dreadful event. Right; if you're ready, I'll set up my tripod and we can get to work straight away.'
'Oh yes,' he stressed, 'I need a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand for very long.'
And that's when Helen fainted.