Conversation

He and I sit there giggling while Janice tries to impress you with what she has put together. And I have to admit, she hasn't done a bad job at all. A BLT, and from the looks of it, a tasty one.

"The bread isn't toasted." "I didn't know you wanted it toasted." "And you didn't think to ask, did you?"

"But..." You move over to the nearest table and pull out one of the chairs. "Come here, Janice."

You have Janice arrange herself over your lap on the chair, and look over at me, "Slut, how many swats does this deserve?" "Oh, I don't know - two or three, probably." I turn back to Arthur as you say, "No, Slut,I do not believe you understand the seriousness of the problem." "Obviously not. I mean, so she didn't toast the bread. Half the time you don't want toast anyway."

You give Janice five quick swats and send her back on her knees to correct her mistake. And in the interim, you look over at Arthur and I, still deep in conversation, and say, "Slut..." "Slut..." I eventually look back at you and finally see the look on your face. I'm in trouble. Lots of trouble. And there isn't anything that will get me out of this one.

"Why don't you go out to the truck and get it?" you request. "Get what, Sir?" "Oh, I think you know what is needed here."