Don’t Talk Smack
Once again yesterday, The Bitch found a way to anoint my face with a blue racing stripe courtesy of his chalk line. With the rain in the afternoon yesterday, I went home with blue smudged and dripped all over my face. When I walked in the door last night, my girlfriend nearly fell on the ground laughing at me, thus congratulating The Bitch in the process.
As we prepared to eat dinner, The Bitch started talking some trash about getting me again with the racing stripe. I told him he would get his, and waited patiently for the drama to unfold.
Unbeknownst to The Bitch, I had retrieved the blue chalk line from his tool belt downstairs and placed it on the desk next to me, waiting for the perfect chance to spring my attack.
As he stood by our counter, preparing his plate of food, I walked into the kitchen and gave him a nice blue racing stripe down his arm. As we laughed at him, I tucked the chalk line into a safe place to avoid his attempts at retribution.
This morning, as we were getting ready for work, I grabbed his chalk line from the hiding spot the night before, walked down the stairs to find The Bitch kneeled down tying his boots, and promptly smacked him across the face to produce a fantastic blue line.
Given that he still wasn’t even fully awake, the attack was even better than a mid afternoon strike. It made the time between him looking up at me with a blue lined face and registering what had just happened just a little longer, thus prolonging my entertainment. I told him that was what he got for talking smack.
As we went to work, I prepared myself for his eventual revenge, fully knowing that I lacked the ability to effectively counterattack due to the fact that my red chalk line doesn’t really show up on skin too well. Counterattack he did; I went home this evening covered in various blue lines. I still think my offensive in the morning was the best though. Surprisingly, after I washed all of the chalk off, my scale showed a new low. I weighed in at 167 pounds.
As we prepared to eat dinner, The Bitch started talking some trash about getting me again with the racing stripe. I told him he would get his, and waited patiently for the drama to unfold.
Unbeknownst to The Bitch, I had retrieved the blue chalk line from his tool belt downstairs and placed it on the desk next to me, waiting for the perfect chance to spring my attack.
As he stood by our counter, preparing his plate of food, I walked into the kitchen and gave him a nice blue racing stripe down his arm. As we laughed at him, I tucked the chalk line into a safe place to avoid his attempts at retribution.
This morning, as we were getting ready for work, I grabbed his chalk line from the hiding spot the night before, walked down the stairs to find The Bitch kneeled down tying his boots, and promptly smacked him across the face to produce a fantastic blue line.
Given that he still wasn’t even fully awake, the attack was even better than a mid afternoon strike. It made the time between him looking up at me with a blue lined face and registering what had just happened just a little longer, thus prolonging my entertainment. I told him that was what he got for talking smack.
As we went to work, I prepared myself for his eventual revenge, fully knowing that I lacked the ability to effectively counterattack due to the fact that my red chalk line doesn’t really show up on skin too well. Counterattack he did; I went home this evening covered in various blue lines. I still think my offensive in the morning was the best though. Surprisingly, after I washed all of the chalk off, my scale showed a new low. I weighed in at 167 pounds.
posted by fuqstik @ 10:14 PM
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