A Doctor And His Wife Were Having A Big Argument

One night after a date, a guy takes his 19 year old girlfriend home.

After kissing each other goodnight at the front door, the guy starts feeling a little horny. With an air of confidence, he leans with his hand against the wall and, smiling, he says to her, “Babe, do you want to, you know, get it on?”

Horrified, she replies, “Are you crazy? My parents will hear us!”He replies, “Oh come on! Who’s gonna hear us at this hour?”

She says, ”But can you imagine if we get caught?!”Oh come on!” he pleads. They won’t know, they’re all sleeping!

”No way. It’s just too risky! she says. He begs, “Oh please, please, I love you so much!’”

No, no, and no,” she insists. I love you too, but I just can’t! “Oh yes you can. Please?” No, no. I just can’t!”

I’m begging you… ” Suddenly, the hallway light turns on, and the girl’s sister shows up in her pyjamas, hair dishevelled, and in a sleepy voice she says, “Dad says that you should go ahead and do it, or mom can do it. Or if need be, dad says he can come down himself and do it,”…”Bu tell him to take his hand off the intercom!”

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MY NEIGHBOR BURIED MY POND WHILE I WAS AWAY 😡💧 Some people reveal who they truly are when you least expect it. For me, it happened when my neighbor filled in my cherished pond while I was out of town, not realizing the storm he was about to face. I may be a quiet older woman, but I had a plan that turned his world upside down. At 74, I’ve seen my share of neighborhood drama, but nothing like what happened in my own backyard. I’m Agnes, and I’ve lived in my cozy little home for twenty years. It’s where I raised my three kids and now enjoy weekends with my six grandkids. The highlight of our yard has always been the pond my great-grandpa built. It’s been the heart of our family for generations. My grandkids love it—sometimes I think they like that pond more than my cookies! 🍪 Everything was peaceful until Derek moved in next door five years ago. From day one, he had a problem with my pond. “Agnes,” he’d yell, “those frogs are driving me crazy at night!” I’d just laugh and say, “They’re singing you to sleep, Derek. Free lullabies!” He’d complain about bugs, too. I told him, “Maybe it’s that cluttered mess in your yard, not my clean pond.” He’d stomp away, and I figured he’d get over it. I was wrong. I went to visit my cousin for a few days, looking forward to laughter and card games. But when I came home, something felt off. The sparkle of water in the yard was gone. In its place? Dirt. My heart sank. Mrs. Carter from across the street rushed over. “Agnes, I tried to stop them! They said they were hired to fill the pond. I told them you weren’t home, but they had papers and everything!” I stared at the muddy patch where my beloved pond used to be. I didn’t need to guess who was behind it. “Derek,” I whispered, fists clenched. “What will you do?” Mrs. Carter asked, worried. I stood up straight. “Oh, he’s about to learn why you don’t mess with Agnes.” I called my daughter Clara. She was furious. “We need to call the police!” “Not yet,” I said. “We need proof.” That’s when my granddaughter Sophie remembered something. “Grandma! The bird camera in the maple tree!” We checked it. And there he was—Derek, clear as day, bossing a crew around, smirking like he got away with something. “Oh, I’ve got you now,” I said with a grin. Derek thought I’d just let it go. But he didn’t count on me calling the local environmental office. “Hello,” I said sweetly. “I’d like to report the illegal destruction of a protected pond.” They sounded confused at first. “Protected habitat, ma’am?” “Yes,” I replied. “That pond was registered. It had rare fish. Someone filled it in while I was away.” Turns out, the environment folks take that very seriously. A few days later, they knocked on Derek’s door. “Mr. Larson, you’re being fined for destroying a protected habitat. We have evidence.” Derek looked stunned. “Fifty thousand dollars? Are you kidding? It was just a pond!” “That ‘pond’ was registered and protected, sir.” I watched from my porch, trying not to giggle. But I wasn’t done yet. Next, I called my grandson Lucas—a sharp lawyer in the city. 👉 (continue reading in the first comment)

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