text: Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men; the shadow knows!". But, who knows what lurks in the hearts of women? It's for sure that husbands don't, and neither does the shadow. Take my wife, please! (Sorry, old joke). We've been married for thirty years, and we went together for five years before that. So, you'd think I'd know her. Yet, it happened again last week. "Where's the flashlight," she said, as she opened a drawer in the kitchen. "I think I last saw it in the bedroom on the nightstand, but I'm sure it needs batteries," I said. "No problem", she said, "I have more in the freezer"(first place I would have looked). "What are you going to do?" I asked. "To do something I should have done a long time ago", she sneered. "I have to kill", and with that, dressed in a bathrobe, ear muffs, and bedroom slippers, she turned on the flashlight, slid open the sliding glass door, and entered the backyard. It was 40 degrees at 9:00 PM ,and she was gone for almost an hour. I was worried, but the football game still had three minutes to go. The door flew open. "How did it go?" I said. "Don't have time for chit-chat", she said, heading for the front door. "You have to strike when it's not expected. She didn't look well. I needed more popcorn. Twenty minutes later, the front door swung open, and I could hear sirens. "They're dead, and I feel great!" she said. "By the way, did you hear the fire engine?" I had heard that hunters shine lights in the eyes of swift animals such as deer to paralyze them in their tracks. My wife had managed to stop the swift-moving, hard-backed snail using the same method. And, as in the "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman", she steps on them--hundreds a night. It's a slaughter, the Iraqis had a better chance of winning. Night after night she searches them out. Not weather, company, or her favorite television show stops her. At any moment, as if she is some kind of controlled robot, she will jump to attention, grab the flashlight, and enter the war zone. Yes, Virginia, there is a terminator, and she is my wife! Neither the Shadow nor I will ever understand what lurks in the heart of my wife. How can a woman, who wakes her husband up in the middle of the night insisting that he catch a moth because it is going to dive-bomb her hair in the dark, be so vicious when it comes to the dangerous snail? "A little moth isn't going to hurt you, go back to sleep!" I say. She says, "he'll make me hurt myself." "Right", I thought. "That makes sense. Leave me alone, and go back to sleep." "No", she says, "Neither one of us is going to sleep until you catch him." "How do you know there's a moth in here?" "I heard his wings fluttering over my head. He's going to get in my hair, and I'm going to jump out of bed and run around the room bumping into things", she cried. It's like being around Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She may be boarding on Sybil. Yesterday, there was a can of beer in our refrigerator. "What's this?" I ask. We don't drink, and alcohol is never found in our house. She wouldn't even let the roofers bring beer into our yard when they were working in 100-degree weather. "Are you going to wash your hair with it?" (I had heard that women will do this). "No!" She looked at me as if I had no understanding as to what was going on--which I didn't! "I'm giving it to the snails tonight". Had there been a "truce", and no one had told me? "The ladies on television said that snails are drawn to beer and will drown themselves in it", she stated triumphantly and proceeded to put out four saucers of beer in various parts of the garden. The next morning she found the saucers just as full as she had left them. "I don't understand", she said. "What kind of beer did you buy?" "Lite", she said. I didn't ask her why-- didn't want to know. "Next time, buy the imported kind", I volunteered. "Don't be stupid", she pouted. "This is serious." "Salt! That's the answer. The ladies on television said to try salt.