“Sit down, Rachel,” Bud said, “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh my God,” Rachel said as she collapsed onto the couch, “you’re leaving me!”

“What? No, I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re cheating on me with another woman!”

“No! Why would you say that?”

“It’s a man then, right? You’re gay, aren’t you?”

“Gay? What are you talking about? I’m not gay.”

“Bud, it explains so much—”

“What? I’m not gay! Please, just stop and listen to me.”

“The late nights with flimsy excuses for why you’re gone…”

“Rachel, please—”

“The bruises! The weird fetish outfit you have hidden in the garage…”

“Honey, that’s what I’m trying—”

“The gadgets and leather,” Rachel began sobbing, “I don’t even know what most of those things are for!”

“RACHEL!” Bud shouted, grabbing her shoulders, “I’m not gay. I’m not cheating on you or doing any weird fetish stuff.”

“Then what? How do you explain all this, Bud?”

“Rachel,” Bud said, looking into his wife’s eyes, “I’ve been sneaking out at night to be a costumed crime fighter.”