Tuesday, November 17, 2009

J: "Are you eating yams?"

M: (Scooping a big spoonful of yams into her mouth.) "No."

J: "Yes, you are."

M: "Prove it!" (She chews ferociously on the yams stuffed in her cheeks.)

J: "The proof is in your mouth."

M: "You can't prove a thing!"

J: "There are yams in your braces."

M: "Those could be from a week ago, Jake. It proves nothing."

J: "You're sitting there eating yams. Why do you deny it?"

M: "No, I'm not. What is your problem?"

J: "Obviously, I'm retarded."

Later in the day, I get M. good.

J: "You've just been OYCED, FACED, and BURNED all in one fell swoop."

I lick my finger and press it to my butt. I make a hissing noise.

J: "Burned! Oyced! Faced!"

I move the palm of my hand up and down in front of my face.

J: Yeah, do you remember 1987? I do. It was the year of the OYCE!"

M. tosses a wheat protein berry shake packet at me and leaves.

No comments:

Post a Comment