GLAD IT GOT ENDED LIKE THAT

Подробнее о видео

My husband is terrified of bugs like full-blown panic attack, jumping-on-chairs, calling his mom terrified. Spiders make him cry actual tears. Roaches send him into witness protection mode I've always been the designated bug assassin in our house, and he treats me like I'm some kind of superhero, calling me his "fearless warrior goddess" and literally bowing down when I save him.

Here's the insane part-I'm actually MORE terrified of bugs than he is, I once fainted at a butterfly exhibit. But four months after we got married, I discovered something that turned me into a criminal mastermind. We had this massive spider in our bathroom, and he was literally hyperventilating in the hallway. I grabbed a flip-flop to kil it, and when I got close, I realized it was fake. A realistic toy spider our psychopath nephew had planted.

That's when my diabolical plan was born. I started buying fake bugs online like I wits running some kind of insect cartel. Realistic spiders, roaches, beetles, moths, even fake wasps. I became a bug-planting serial killer. Whenever my husband would spot a "bug." I'd dramatically burst in like an action hero, pretend to battle it to the death and secretly pocket the evidence

For ten years, I've been running the most elaborate psychological operation in marriage history About 95% of our "bug encounters were my own staged productions. I had seasonal collections-summer ants, autumn beetles, winter spiders, I even bought glow-in-the dark ones for maximum terror effect.

I became completely addicted to being worshipped. He'd tell EVERYONE how I once "killed a spider the size of a dinner plate with my bare hands. His friends started calling me The Exterminator. His mother bought me a cape for Christmas because I was her son's "personal superhero." I was living the most ridiculous lie in human history, but the ngo boost was intoxicating

The operation got so sophisticated that I started timing everything like a military mission. Fake roach in the shower at 7 AM sharp. Plastic spider dangling from the bedroom ceiling at bedtime. Rubber beetle in his coffee cup for maximum morning drama. He'd scream like he was being murdered. I'd charge in like Wonder Woman and he'd spend hours telling people about his wife's incredible bravery.

I even started carrying take bugs in my purse for emergency hero moments, Date night? Boom. Take spider under the restaurant table. Visiting his parents? Surprise plastic roach in their bathroom. I was like a bug planting ninja, striking fear into my own husband's heart just so I could swoop in and save the day

Last night, my entire criminal empire collapsed in the most spectacular way possible. I had planted a massive fake cockroach in the kitchen, planning my usual dinner-time heroics. But when I went to grab it, I tripped over our cat and my purse exploded like a bug piñata. About twenty fake insects scattered across the floor spiders roaches, beetles, moths, even a fake scorpion I'd been saving for special occasions

My husband stared at the insect crime scene, then at me, then back at the evidence. His face went through every emotion known to mankind. "What in the actual hell is this?" he whispered, I tried to claim they were for a prank on our neighbor, but he wasn't buying my desperate lies.

He picked up the fake scorpion and held it like evidence in a murder trial. "This looks exactly like the 'deadly scorpion' you heroically saved me from last month," he said, his voice getting dangerously quiet. Then his detective brain kicked in. "And this spider... didn't you 'kill' one just like this yesterday?"

The jig was up. "How many?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "How many bugs were fake?" I took the deepest breath of my life and confessed: "Almost all of them. For ten years." His face went completely blank, like his brain was rebooting.

Then came the ultimate test. He pointed to a real spider sitting in the corner - one I'd been avoiding for a week. "Kill it." he commanded. "Show me how fearless you really are." I just stood there, paralyzed with terror, staring at the actual eight-legged demon. "I... I can't," I stammered.

That's when he completely lost it. He started laughing like a maniac who'd just escaped from an asylum. "TEN YEARS!" he screamed between hysterical laughs. "TEN years of fake bugs! My wife is a fraud!" Then he grabbed a magazine and killed the real spider himself while I hid behind the refrigerator like a coward.