"As soon as your father gets home."
"Why do we have to wait for dad? I'm starving!" he exclaimed.
"Because it's polite, and respectful."
"Can I have a bagel while I wait, at least?"
"OK, but no cream cheese or anything."
"Alright." he said defeatedly, but satisfied.
It was 3:00 when father finally arrived home, wreaking of booze. "Who stole my keys?" he burst. "They were in my pocket five minutes ago!" As he slurred his words his wife's fake smile turned into a fake concerned frown.
"No one took your keys, dear. I'll go check the car. You probably left them in the ignition again." and she hurried out the door.
"Yeah you do that." he mumbled, as he plopped into his favorite bean bag chair.
"OUCH!" he cried. "Who the fuck put this miniloader on my beanbag?" yelled father with an expectant, 'answer-me-now' look on his face.
'Miniloader' was what his 3 year old son had cutely but mistakenly named his toy forklift.
The End
3 comments:
I don't appreciate your anti-Semitism.
What did they have for lunch?
I'm hungry.
The son had beef bucket, while the mom and dad split some chicken marilyn.
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