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It's My Word Against The Pool Cleaner's

Frankly, Gordon, I'm shocked and hurt that you would consider believing anything that pool cleaner says, even for one second. I mean, I thought that after 16 months of marriage, you'd come to trust me. I know it hasn't been easy for you, with the big difference in our ages and all, but I would never have an affair with anyone in the world, much less one of your servants. Never.

Okay, I admit I was lying out in a skimpy little bikini while he was cleaning the pool. But what did you want me to do—get tan lines? And, yes, I may have bent over in front of him or arched my back once or twice. But it was only to rub lotion on myself or paint my toenails or something like that. I can't help it if he's looking at me when I do these things! That's probably how he knew about my birthmark, too, by peeping.

And yes, I did go into the tool shed with him a few times, but it was only because he asked me to help him out. He said he needed a place to put his hose or soak his tools or something, I forget what. He looked so hot and sweaty out there with his shirt off, I felt sorry for him. I sincerely hope you don't think I'm the kind of wife who would do those sorts of things with the help.

I can understand why you'd be so mad, honey, thinking I did those things. Sit down and let me rub your shoulders, sweetheart. Running all those banks has gotten you soooo tense.

Now, as far as that whole business about your chauffeur Simon seeing me and the pool cleaner doing something in the kitchen, it's pure nonsense! Do you really think I'd let him do that to me? Over the sink, no less? Honestly!

The truth is, we were just trying to get the garbage disposal unclogged when Simon walked in on us. After all, you'd just fired the handyman for sneaking into my room, and the pool cleaner was the only big, strong man around. I was bent over trying to fix the thing, and he was watching over my shoulder, giving me instructions. I assure you, it was all very innocent.

By the way, I think Simon's been drinking again. He should really be careful, or one day he'll have an accident, drinking so much. Just you wait.

Want to know what I think about this whole situation? I think our pool boy has a bit of an overactive imagination. Out in that sun all the time, never wearing a shirt, his muscles glistening with sweat—it's done something to his brain. I've never liked the way he looks up at my window while I'm undressing. Do you think he might be dangerous?

I swear, he made up all those things, Gordon. I never let him into my bedroom, not once. Maybe he snuck in, just like the handyman, the cable installer, and your nephew Robert, and that's how he knows where all my dainties are. But I never let him in there, and I never, ever went in there with him.

You work too hard, honey. All that money you handle puts a terrible strain on you. Just relax, baby, and drink this tea I made you. Relax and drink your tea, and in a little while I'll be nice to you. And don't listen to a thing that horrid pool boy says. There.

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God Sick Of New Angel’s Annoying Fucking Voice

THE HEAVENS—Calling the sound a “cross between a train whistle and a dying goat,” God, Our Lord And Heavenly Father, told reporters Monday that He was already sick of a new angel’s “incredibly fucking annoying voice.

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