Ladder of Doom

This evening, when I returned bruised and battered from training, Knickers asked me to fetch a suitcase from the top cupboard. She wanted to try on some maternity clothes left over from before the Noodle was born.
I lunked it down and up again when she was done sorting.
My wife then started to fold up the step ladder, catching her thumb between the closing struts in the process. She cursed and swore as I rushed in to offer assistance, finally pushing the ladder off her finger and down onto my unprotected toe (still recovering from being dislocated). I joined in the aggrieved chorus then helped out some more by picking the ladder up and clonking her in the head with it.

The 3 Stooges could not have scripted it better.