Ulysses takes 10 years to cross one of the most benign bodies of water on the planet and spent 8 years of them lounging about on various Greek isles with women who can't seem to resist his manly charms.

 

My wife looked at me through sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Surprise,” I said “it's your husband back from 10 years. I've escaped faraway barbarian lands and have tales that will turn the fire cold.”

I expected her to rise slowly, demurely from her seat and say “welcome husband. I've been patiently waiting for you all these years spurning all suitors.”

 

But no. She said, “O good. I can file for divorce now.”

 

I jumped up, trod on the dog who snarled and tugged at my bootlaces.

“But it's been for you I've been away,” I said, “and I've returned ships laden with chests of plunder and wardrobes of silk.”

I expected her to rejoice now I'm a hero of course, returned after facing so many trials.

 

But no. She said, “I don't believe you.”

 

So I donned my armour, sacrificed new born lambs and goats at the altar to the gods,

got my men to carry the booty and lay it at her feet, had musicians play and a choir

to sing a lay (and after ten years I wanted to lay with my wife). I expected her

to rejoice now I'm a hero.

 

But no. She said, “too late husband, or rather ex-husband.”

 

I didn't expected her to say “I've moved in with a tax inspector. Boring little prick

but I prefer the stay at home types and have lost my appetite for heroes.”