So the wife and I were getting into it and she told me to talk dirty to her. So I called her a filthy slut.
She said “dirtier!” So I smacked her around and told her I was going to use her like the cheap whore she is.
She said “dirtier!” So I said “I’m gonna stick some SQQQ in your portfolio. I’m gonna put it in long and deep. I’m gonna fill you up with way OTM SPY puts.”
She then slapped me, packed a bag and took the kids. I think we’re getting a divorce.
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Christmas for a wsb trader
As the tree blinks from white to red to green, you look at the void under the tree that previously held presents. Fewer this year than usual, but some.
How did you get here? Boredom? In March, you felt trapped with your wife and infant. You needed something to pass the time. Something you could throw yourself into fully.
“Are you coming to bed?” your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. You’ll stop soon, though. “Soon!” you reply, and you hear her feet climb the steps.
The lights start to blink chaotically. You cringe because you could only afford the junk strands at CVS. Suddenly they halt—the alternation feature broken—on red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like they’re bleeding. Like your calls.
After a time—hours?—you realize you’re sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.