Seven years, eight months, three weeks, four days and nineteen hours, Ma’am.
Right, right. And how long is the tunnel?
Almost six kilometers.
She paused for a moment, tapping Her fingers on the desk.
Why a tunnel?
Why?? Because my Wife is extremely dominant, demanding and ruthless. My marriage is a prison, that’s why. I had to escape.
But … you were not locked up in a dungeon, not chained to a wall, not wearing legs irons, right?
Of course not, he giggled.
You used the car to go to work and you were even allowed to hang out with your friends.
That is correct, once a month.
Once a month, there you go. So … you could have left whenever you wanted to … Taken the car and driven off into the sunset. Why a tunnel?
He looked bewildered, his mouth opening and closing, with nothing coming out. His tiny little brain tumbled ’round and ’round in his skull like laundry in a washer.
Yes, well … if you put it like that, he finally whispered.
Now you have to appear in court and will be sent to prison.
Dear God, he panicked, I hope not!
Your Wife is the judge, right?
She is, yes.
Yeah, you will be sent to prison. Time for a tunnel, I would say.