Pink heels

I look at what’s inside, pick up the pair of pink six-inch heels, show them to my wife, and say, “What do these mean?”

“Ooooh, those are fun for me and you,” she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask, “What’s my costume?”

“I get to dress you up as a slutty bimbo,” Macy says.

“What are you being?” I ask her.

“That’s a surprise, let’s work on you first,” she says.

“Wait. I don’t want to be a slutty bimbo for Halloween,” I say.

“Now don’t say that,” Macy says, “Every year it’s the same thing. Whoever loses must dress in the way the other wants. We’ve done it every year. Besides, everyone will just think of it as a big joke. Plus you should just be happy you didn’t pick one of the other boxes. Some of them would make you happy to have picked slutty bimbo.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“I’m not telling, maybe I can use them again next year,” she says and gives me a wink.

“Fine,” I say, “So how do we start?”