Putting a gun in the hands of a beloved psychic wife is better than doing so for a beloved psycho wife. 
I could tell you stories...
We have time,do tell.
OK If you insist.
In honor of the season this one has sort of a Halloween theme. The year is 1988. I'm playing a Halloween gig in a little bar just outside of Seattle. I hate costumes (mostly too hot when I play) so I did a kind of "Groucho Marx does Angus Young" thing...
Anyway...my then wife #2 was with me as she always was (don't want Soupie falling victim to the temptations of E-vil doncha know). Usually she was just there with grim determination to see to it that I did something, or didn't do something, or something. This particular time however we had a pretty good party going and she got sloshed.
So here it is - 02:45 on a Sunday morning. I'm dog-azzed tired from a full nights work and would prefer to go home and collapse into bed. She on the other hand is hungry. So we go to Burger King. We're both still wearing our costumes (she went as a witch - no surprise there!) so I ask if we can just do the drive-thru.
"Whopper, no pickle, extra Mayo, extra Tomato".
Gawd, I still remember it after all these years (*shiver*). She was a freak about food. Everything had to be exactly
precisely correct - including the placement of the toppings and the application of the condiments. It always made eating (in, out, whatever) a challenge and an adventure....from hell.
We advance to the order window and tell them what we want. She goes through the drill of interrogating the wait-staff to make sure that they have it correct. We pull up to the 2nd window and pay for our meal. She inspects the order and (surprise surprise) finds something wrong with it. The damned pickle.
"There's pickle in my hamburger!" I offer to take it out ("No - it'll still taste like pickles!). I tell her I'll eat it and buy her another one ("NO - it'll take too long!). She proceeds to shout past me to the wait-person and of course she's the picture of diplomacy...not. The clerk gives her another hamburger in the hope that we will just leave. For an ever~so~brief moment it looked like it was going to work too. We start to go and then the BFH shouts out "Stop"!
I hit the brakes and she jets out of the van and into the restaurant to confront the clerk. I park and go in to see if I can do damage control and find them screaming at one another across the counter. Over a hamburger. At 02:45 on a Sunday. Dressed like a witch.
This is going well.
The assistant manager has stepped in to take control (yea sure!). She patiently explained that they have done their good-faith effort by giving us a replacement sandwich (with the strong implication that this is it pal). By way of response wifey dives over the counter to punch the manager out. I wish they had had cellphone cameras in those days ;') I'm doing my best to restrain her when she helpfully announces to the room that "My husband has a gun and he'll shoot your friggin brains out!" I'm still trying to assess the exact moment when I first recognized that I had lost control of the situation -
I keep coming back to the moment I met her.I'm trying to coax her out of there when the cops arrive. They took it all pretty well all things considered. There was the perfunctory documents check. then the microscopic examination of my gun (S&W Model 19 w/1.5" barrel)(I'm pretty sure that the older cop wanted it for his own). And then the part that I especially enjoyed most - the scolding. Of course my guilt by association is complete and condemning. I can do nothing but apologize.
The next day was fun. As she fought the hangover she alternated between pretending not to remember a thing and being indignant at the shabby treatment she was forced to endure (snigger).
If there is any way that a person can be Obsessive-Compulsive and have Borderline Personality Disorder then she is it.
