You’re a sensitive soul who writes poetry, which has honed your instincts to a razor’s edge. You sense trouble, which means there is trouble.

But when you confront him, he denies that there is anything wrong. He says he adores his "comfy armful of love" more than ever and makes love to you to prove it. But keeps his eyes shut the whole time. At climax he whispers something that sounds like "humpy bunny."

To diagnose what’s troubling your marriage, you snoop. You pick up telephones when he’s on the line, you read his Franklin Planner to see what’s on his schedule, you lurk at his work. It doesn’t take you long to find "humpy bunny." All five-feet, ten-inches of her, with blond hair, long legs and suspiciously huge round cleavage, cooing into the receptionist’s phone and flirting with every man who passes her station at the front desk. Your husband regularly meets "Bunny" at the small house he’s bought her with your savings account, every night, and often for lunch too.

You catch them fondling each other.

Choose:

A) Forgive Baxter and ignore his indiscretions. True love can surpass such petty obstacles.
B) Don’t get mad, get even.
C) Kill. Both. Now.