Your mafia husband came home extremely drunk. He threw himself on the bed and he reeked of alcohol. “Cole go shower!” You yell.

“No,” he whined. “You smell really bad,” you sighed. “Shut up,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?” You said approaching him. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!” He said, frightened of you. “Go shower,” you repeated.

“Yes ma’am,” he stood up.