Two elderly women, Ethel and Mabel, sat across from each other in a floral-papered sitting room, sipping their afternoon tea and gossiping like it was their life’s work—which, to be fair, it practically was.
“I do wish my Leroy would stop biting his nails,” Ethel said, frowning into her Earl Grey. “It makes me terribly nervous just watching him. I mean, we’ve been married 52 years and I still can’t figure out how he has any fingernails left.”
“Oh, my,” Mabel replied, raising her brows, “Harold used to do that too. I cured him, though.”
Ethel leaned in, eyes wide. “You did? How?”
Mabel set her teacup down with theatrical flair. “Simple. I hid his teeth.”
Ethel blinked. “You… what?”
“Hid. His. Teeth,” Mabel repeated proudly. “You know those fake chompers of his? I snuck ‘em out of the glass while he was snoring and hid them behind the cookie jar.”
Ethel gasped. “Isn’t that cruel?”
“Oh no, dear. Cruel would be listening to that awful click-click-click every time we watched the news. Besides, it only took one afternoon of gummy gnawing on his knuckles before he gave up the habit entirely. Man nearly sucked his whole thumb in.”
Ethel burst into laughter, nearly dropping her biscuit. “Mabel, you’re positively wicked.”
“I prefer ‘resourceful,’” Mabel said, adjusting her shawl like a villain in a soap opera. “You want him to change, you gotta speak his language. Leroy likes pudding, doesn’t he?”
“Loves it,” Ethel said, still giggling.
“Well, next time he bites a nail, swap his spoon for a thimble. Or give him sugar-free. That’ll rattle him.”
The two women continued sipping their tea, plotting gentle revenge on their husbands, completely unaware that both Leroy and Harold were sitting in the garage, talking about how their wives spent too much time scheming over tea.
Little did the men know… the teacups were mightier than the remote.
