Friday, August 7, 2009

I don't really want him to die. Mostly. Wait, is the insurance waiting period over?

"I'm going to ride my bike to work today," the DNB announces.

"Great," I say, distracted as I settle into the office for the day.

He putters around the house for a few minutes, then reappears in the office door.

"Would you make fun of me if I took your bike instead?" he asks.

My head snaps up. "Um, yeah." That question HAD to be rhetorical because has he met me?

"Baby," he whines, "You never let me ride a girl bike without making fun of me."

"I know, it's too bad."

"But my bike needs a tune-up," he continues. "The brakes are sketchy. Would you rather that I ride a girl bike or DIE?"

"Hmm. Definitely the one where you die," I reply. "At least you'd die a man."

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