A woman, cranky because her husband was late coming home again,
decided to leave a note, saying, “I’ve had enough and have left you.
Don’t bother coming after me.”
Then she hide under the bed to see his reaction.
After a short while, the husband comes home and she could hear him in the kitchen before he comes into the bedroom.
She could see him walk towards the dresser and pick up the note.
After a few minutes, he wrote something on it before picking up the phone and calling someone.
“She’s finally gone…yeah I know, about bloody time, I’m coming to see you, put on that sexy French nightie.
I love you…can’t wait to see you…we’ll do all the naughty things you like.
“He hung up, grabbed his keys and left.
She heard the car drive off as she came out from under the bed.
Seething with rage and with tears in her eyes
she grabbed the note to see what he wrote…
“I can see your feet. We’re outta bread: be back in five minutes.
LOVED THIS ? HERE ARE FEW MORE JOKES LIKE THIS:
1. The Closet Surpise
Married fifteen years, Susan knew her husband Leo had become a serial late‑arriver. One night, wiped out after her third double shift, she scribbled on a scrap of paper:
“I’m done waiting up for you. I’ve left. Don’t even think about looking for me.”
She tucked the note onto the living‑room table and slipped into the closet behind their coats to catch his reaction. A few minutes later, she heard Leo’s keys, then footsteps. Through the closet crack, she watched him enter, pause, and pick up the note. Susan braced herself.
Leo studied it, then grabbed a pen and jotted something new before reaching for his phone and dialing.
“Hey, Phil? She finally left me… yeah, at last. I’m on my way over. Bring that pizza you promised—and save me a slice of extra‑cheesy supreme. Love you, buddy.”
He hung up, slipped on his jacket, and headed out. Susan waited for a moment, heart pounding. Finally, she stepped out.
On the note, Leo had added:
“P.S. The pizza guy’s still here. Could you order mushrooms?”
2. The Pantry Stakeout
Sandra was fed up with Ben’s repeated sofa naps instead of helping with dinner. That night, she wrote:
“I’ve had enough. I’m out of here. Don’t look for me.”
She hid behind the cereal boxes in the pantry. Moments later, Ben trudged in, humming. He opened the note, sighed theatrically, then jotted:
“If you’re gone, who’s been eating all the Lucky Charms?”
He crammed the note into the milk carton, poured himself a bowl, and went back to the living room. Sandra crept out, glared at him, spotted the message, and burst into laughter—and hunger.
3. The Garage Door
Jenna slammed the front door so hard the hinges groaned. She left a note:
“This marriage is over. I’m gone—don’t look.”
Then she ducked behind the lawnmower in the garage. She listened as Mark’s car wheels crunched on the driveway, followed by footsteps. He entered, flicked on the light, and sought out the note stuck to the freezer.
Mark read it, shook his head, then wrote:
“Honey, you forgot our wedding anniversary florist pickup. I’ll be late—sorry.”
He grabbed his keys again, muttering about roses, and left. Jenna emerged, befuddled, realizing his biggest concern was the florist schedule, not her “departure.”
4. The Bathroom Standoff
After a day of petty arguments, Leila stormed out, leaving on the bathroom mirror:
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m gone.”
She hid behind the shower curtain, bracing for silence. Within minutes, her husband Paul entered, swayed, and eyed his reflection:
He wrote on the steamy mirror:
“You forgot your toothbrush. Do you want mine, or should I pick up extras?”
He then flipped off the light, leaving a dim glow from the hallway, and she peeked out, stifling a laugh at his domestic priorities.
5. The Attic Ambush
Tara felt invisible. That night she left a note on the attic door:
“I’m done with this life. I’ve left.”
She slipped inside, crouching behind storage boxes. When Matt clomped up the pull‑down stairs, he found the note, then took out his phone:
“Yeah, Mom? She’s finally gone. I’m leaving too—can we move in with you for the weekend?”
He pocketed the note, descended, and Tara nearly fell off a box laughing.
6. The Backyard Shed
The latest fight ended with Emily’s note tacked to the shed door:
“I can’t stand this anymore. I’m leaving.”
She squeezed inside behind the lawn chairs. Moments later, she heard Doug jangle the key, then peek at the paper:
“Out of beer. Be right back—grabbing six‑pack from the store.”
He strode off, and Emily stepped out, incredulous at his single‑minded mission.
7. The Laundry Room
Frustrated by constant clutter, Naomi dropped a note on the washing machine:
“I quit. I’m not cleaning up after you.”
She hid behind the dryer. Soon, Jake entered, picked up the slip, and scrawled:
“So… where did I leave my lucky socks?”
He rummaged through laundry baskets, calling out sock spots, and Naomi emerged, shaking her head at his priorities.
8. The Backyard Poolhouse
Marcy, exhausted by her teen’s noise, scribbled on the poolhouse door:
“I’m done with this chaos. I’m gone.”
She crouched behind pool towels. Chris found the note, frowned, and added:
“Could you also send me my goggles? The swim meet starts in 20.”
He retrieved his goggles from hanging hooks and slid off, leaving Marcy to smile at his practical twist.
9. The Car Trunk
One scorching afternoon, Edie scribbled on her husband Rob’s dashboard:
“I can’t live like this. I’m gone.”
She climbed into the trunk, tucking herself behind the spare tire. Rob shuffled up, paused, and wrote:
“You left your sunhat. Want me to drop it by?”
He closed the trunk, and Edie emerged—relieved it was her straw hat he’d worried over, not her dramatic exit.
10. The Home Office
Furious over the latest missed anniversary, Patti left a note on her husband’s laptop:
“You’ve ruined everything. I’m leaving you.”
She sank into the linen closet. Soon she heard keys on the keyboard—then boyish exasperation:
“My password expired. Can you text it to me?”
Patti emerged, half‑laughing, half‑teary, at his fixation on logging in rather than her proclamation.
11. The Garage Freezer
After yet another silent dinner, Kate posted her note to the deep freezer door:
“I’m done! I can’t keep living like this.”
She leaned behind the spare tire. In minutes, Rick opened it, grabbed an old frozen pizza, and wrote on the note:
“We have no popsicles. Picking up some for the kids. Back soon!”
Kate crawled out, amazed that the only crisis he saw was the lack of frozen treats.
12. The Doghouse
Jill scrawled on the doghouse wall:
“I’ve had enough. Don’t follow me.”
She sneaked behind the barbecue grill. Within moments, Tom bent down, read the graffiti, and added:
“Chico chewed my favorite shoe. Could you bring it inside?”
Tom strolled away with the shoe in hand, and Jill, emerging with a grin, decided maybe he’d earned that one.
13. The Tool Bench
Ann exasperatedly left a note on her husband’s workbench:
“That’s it—I’m gone.”
She curled under the table saw. Dan walked in, noted the message, and jotted:
“Saw blade is dull—will get a new one at the hardware store.”
He grabbed his keyring and left, and Ann crawled free, realizing the saw blade outranked her marriage in his mind—just for a moment.
14. The Backyard Hammock
Angry at being ignored, Rose wrote on the hammock stand:
“I’m leaving—you don’t care anyway.”
She hid in the laundry line. Soon, Mike strolled by, read it, and noted:
“We’re out of laundry detergent. Could you pick some up?”
He ambled off to the store, and Rose emerged, speechless at his chore‑focused response.
15. The Garage Workbench (Sequel)
After two decades of marriage, Pam left a note on the garage workbench:
“I can’t believe you’ve made me feel so invisible. I’m leaving.”
She crouched behind the tool chest. Rob moseyed in, frowning at her handwriting, then added:
“Bike tire flat. Be back with the pump.”
He walked out, whistling, and Pam stepped out, both furious and bemused that her husband’s priority was tire pressure—not her “departure.”
Adrian Hawthorne is a celebrated author and dedicated archivist who finds inspiration in the hidden stories of the past. Educated at Oxford, he now works at the National Archives, where preserving history fuels his evocative writing. Balancing archival precision with creative storytelling, Adrian founded the Hawthorne Institute of Literary Arts to mentor emerging writers and honor the timeless art of narrative.