A Dybbuk Has Entered My Husband

I need to apologize to S.Y. Ansky, who wrote The Dybbuk, for paraphrasing his ending to Act I.
As the lead sinks to the ground in a swoon, an extra states, "A Dybbuk has entered the bride."
For those of you who don't know, in Judaism a dybbuk is a malicious possessing spirit, believed to be the dislocated soul of a dead person. Once a person is inhabited by a dybbuk, an exorcism is required, which can result in the death of the person whose body had been inhabited.

My husband is suffering from such a problem.

I cannot say with certainty how long the dybbuk has been residing in his body. It's actions are unlike that of a classic dybbuk. Its presence is only apparent when prokoved. Provocation comes in the form of a televised Liverpool game. My husband has been a soccer fanatic since the age of 5, supporting the team which is father z"l supported. I knew when we got married that I was the wife but soccer the mistress, who did not present a serious threat, and must be allowed.

However, when the hubby sits down in front of a game, the dybbuk emerges. It begins with the changing into of his Liverpool jersey. It progresses with the opening of a bottle of Carlesburg. The possesion reaches its peak during tense moments of the game, when my eloquent and chivalrous husband lets loose a barrage of language filthy enough to make sailors blush or shouts of joy loud enough to wake the dead, and pays me no note. It would literally take a life or death situation to draw him away from the screen. As the game draws to a close, depending on the result, the dybbuk will recede, leaving my husband in a morose or jubilant mood. Being possessed is difficult and exhausing work, and often results in one's spouse needing to do the dishes or be left to their own devices for the remainder of the evening.

As I write this, the dybbuk is in full possession. All I can say is GO LIVERPOOL!!!