“Honey, is something wrong?”

            Peter came up behind her where she was peeling potatoes to mash for supper. Resting his elbows on the counter next to the sink, he gazed up at her, waiting for her response.

            Vicky gave him a quick look. “No. Why do you ask?”

            “Normally when I get home from work, you talk my ear off while you’re cooking dinner. I’ve been home a little over half an hour, and you haven’t said a word,” her husband explained, adding a smile.

            She returned one of her own. “What? You don’t like the peace and quiet?”

            “Seriously. Did something happen today?”

            Giving a little exasperated sigh, she confessed, “You’re going to think I’m absolutely bonkers, just like Susan does.”

            “How can I make that decision unless you tell me what you did? Or was it something you said?”

            Dropping the potato and scraper into the plastic bowl, she tore off a sheet of paper towel from the roll hanging beneath the cabinet, wiped her hands, and turned to face him. “Susan fixed a cup of coffee for the both of us.”

            Peter raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That is big news!”

            “Peter!”

            “Awright. Awright. So she fixed you a cup of coffee. And?”

            Using her hands to demonstrate, she explained. “She uses one of those fill-it-yourself pods. She took the used one out of the coffeemaker, hit it six times in her hand, opened it, then hit the bottom of the pod six times to knock the grounds into the trash. But it wasn’t enough, so she pounded it in her hand three more times, and over the trash three more times.”

            Peter raised the other eyebrow. “I’m still waiting for the punchline.”

            “Don’t you get it? Six-six-six! It’s the devil’s symbol!”