Wednesday, May 7, 2008


I was sitting at home this last Sunday, finishing up a fascinating paper on postcolonial geographies in Flann O'Brien's The Third Policeman when I thought I would procrastinate--er, give Greg a call.

Me: "Hey, how's it going at the house."

Greg: "Um."

Me:  "What's wrong?  Plumbing?  Electrical?  Termites?  Just tell me."

Greg:  "No, it's just that I found more treasure."

Me:  "Money!?!?!"

Greg:  "No."

Me:  "OK, what?"

Greg:  "A half-eaten chicken bone."

Me:  "....ooooh, ewwww, that's soooo grosssss."

Greg:  "Yeah.  I know.  I'm the one that cleaned it up."

Me:  "Eeewwww."

Greg:  "At least we know we don't have rats."

No comments: