Her argument couldn’t be finer: “Don’t want you to think I’m a whiner. I’m not just a shirker I AM a hard worker!” She said, from her threadbare recliner.
The once-mighty turkey is … slight. There’s not a potato in sight. The gravy’s spread thinner – More snack-like than dinner. The fridge was attacked late last night.
This debate was more civil than first. But responses seemed vague and rehearsed. Though some orderliness was restored, Many questions were simply ignored.
Undecideds, I’d just like to ask: Did you learn who is up to the task? Or perhaps you just think it’s a crime that the fly did not get equal time. 😉
He says hi there; she says hello. “Which floor?” he asks. She doesn’t know. His finger waits, then starts to tap. Her face turns red. She thinks, “Oh crap. Why can’t I think? Just pick a floor!” Her brain congeals. He taps some more. “Just. Pick. A. Floor.” That thought now slips from clotted brain through tense, pursed lips. With sideways glance and impish smirk, he presses 12. (Joker? Or Jerk?) Long, silent ride can’t end too soon. It seems to take all afternoon. She ruminates entire ride, should parting words be kind? Or snide? She isn’t sure how this should end –