Husband's home

Marge was in bed with her lover. All of a sudden, they heard a noise downstairs.

"Oh, my God, your husband's home!" the lover shrieked. "What am I going to do?"

"Just stay in bed with me," Marge replied. "He's probably so drunk he won't even notice you."

The fear of getting caught trying to escape was more powerful than the thought of getting caught in bed with Marge, so he trusted her advice. Sure enough, Marge's husband came into the room blasted. As he crawled into
bed, he pulled the covers and blankets over him, exposing six feet.

"Honey!" he yelled. "What the hell is going on? I see six feet at the end of the bed! Have you got someone else in here?"

"Dear, you're so drunk, you can't count," Marge calmly replied. "If you don't believe me, get out of bed and count them again."

So the husband got out of bed and counted. "One, two, three, and four. By gosh, you're right, dear. I'm sorry I doubted you!"