A woman’s goodbye and good riddance letter to her husband

“Can you taste the lasagne off of my oven mitts, asshole?”

Dear hubby

I hope you read this after you go down on Lisa Chubby

There’s a moment in a woman’s life when she’s had enough

Tired of her man, hands in skants, sitting like an emperor in the buff

You tell people you wear the pants, but I know it’s all a bluff

I asked you to at least do the laundry

But you’d find an excuse to go and screw Audrey. How tawdry?

Once, you cleaned the dishes like a fat sad slob

Hoping, in return, I’d give you a blowjob

I go to work, clean the house and I cook

But you always complain I don’t ever give you koek

The kids run around in their underwear

Eating Smarties off the floor, you can’t care

I’ll have to take them with me. Yes, they come from your nuts

But I can’t stand the thought they’d be Instagram sluts

You say I’m too old to find another man

But I don’t need one to make me feel grand

I faint when you fart and fume when you snore

I’d like to see how Kim fairs lying next to you, that dirty little whore

For sixteen years you’ve been nothing but a pest

So I bid you farewell, I’m off to Budapest

You’ll find attached inside

Divorce papers and a vial of cyanide

Take your pick

You little prick

For you, death would be more opportune

Than parting with half of your fortune