More Lynn household banter/mockery.

Me: (totes in stressed out composer mode because I have to jot down an idea before it disappears from my brain- yes, this is my daily life) Hey…hand me one of those…y’know…one of those…(still can’t conjure up the word)…those…doo-bahs!

Robert: (in a condescending tone, relishing my misery) Hmmm…well I’d love to help, my sweet, but can you be a little more specific?

Me: Oh…you know…Dammit…one of those….those…writing things!

Robert: Oh! You mean a pencil? (Squats down to look me in the eye – even more condescendingly) Say it with me, now: peeeeennnn-ssssssiiiiiillllll.

Me: Sometimes, I really don’t like you.

Robert: (strolling casually to his desk, singing to the tune of Magic Bus – which I would have thought him too young and square to remember) A writing thing! A writing thing!

Me: (desperately starting to loudly hum my composed tune so it won’t morph into his twisted Magic Bus rendering)

Robert: (ceremoniously handing me a pencil) I regret that I have but one writing thing to give for my country. (Marches away, happily and vigorously singing) So, it’s rally round the flag boys, rally once again, shouting the writing thing of freeeeedom!!!

Me: *sigh*

Robert: (jingling his car keys in my face) I’m heading to the store now. Would you like me to pick you up any of those… oh…y’know… grocery things? (laughs in self amusement and skips out the back door)

Me: *sigh* (finishes scribbling what little I can remember of my brilliant, but fleeting new opus and commences napping)