Posted by: Quilly | December 15, 2007

A Brat — With No Sense of Self-Preservation

He said: “I don’t know what it is about choir, but whenever it comes time to go, I have a sore throat.”

She said: “Psychosomatic? You don’t have to go.”

He said: “I like choir.”

She said: “Well, you were snoring last night. Loud! That’s probably why your throat hurts.”

He said: “Probably. But I was just trying to get even.”

She stepped into his path as he trudged his musical equipment from the spare room to the front door. “Just what is that supposed to mean?” She demanded.

He grinned and said: “You know dang well what it means.”

She said: “Yes, I do. It means you are a brat.”

He grinned even wider and said: “Just tryin’ to get even there, too!”

Pointing toward the door she said: “You’d better go to music while you are still healthy enough to get there.”

He — obviously terrified — put down his musical equipment and hugged her.

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Responses

  1. that was probably the best possible response, eh!

  2. i i had a dollar for every time you called me a brat i’d have about $100. if i had a dollar for every time i heard you call someone a brat, well, i’d be on my yacht, not sitting here blogging.

    let oc know he is among good company!

  3. Polona — what? Holding my hands to my side to mitigate the violence?

    Cindra — you are a brat. I know, it runs in our genes. OC has to work at it.

  4. Excellent job. You appeased the wrath without following the rite.

  5. Doug — wrath? Me? It’s all show. You come watch us argue. Both of us are grinning all the way through it.

  6. And they lived happily (and hysterically) ever after!

  7. You two are so cute.

  8. Melli — I certainly hope so!

    Nessa — we are adorable — and modest, too.


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