"We dare not trust our wit for making our house pleasant to our friend, so we buy ice cream." – Ralph Waldo Emerson
■ □ ■ □ ■ □ ■ □
"Sushi."
"Assholeeeeeee..."
"..."
"So, we're not doing that?"
"..."
"Fine then, your loss."
"You told someone about my family problems, didn't you?"
"What? No, of course not!"
"Well, then how else does the whole fucking world know?"
"What the– how?"
"Because you obviously told someone! Now everyone knows that my dad is in a fucking grave and my mother is a troubled, nutcase widow!"
"Shit, I can't believe this. I'm sorry, Fletcher, but I swear I didn't breathe a word."
"You must have! Look, you were the only goddamned person outside my family who I told about this."
"I– oh, gosh, Fletcher, I didn't–"
"You know why? It was because you were the person I trusted the most!"
"For fuck's sake, Fletcher, how many times do I have to say it? I didn't say anything!"
"Honestly–"
"Stop being such a judgemental dipshit!"
"Oh please, can you stop acting like you're on your fucking period?"
"Are we fighting?"
"Damn right, we are!"
"Oh, that's just perfect, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's a shit way to end my shitty day, don't you think?"
"I'm going to hang up before this escalates."
"Don't you–"
YOU ARE READING
Waffle Cones (#1)
Short Story"Hello?" "Um, hey?" "Wait, you don't sound like my Aunt Kathy." "Unless I was miraculously converted into a member of the opposite gender and somehow related to whoever is on the other side of this call, then yeah. I'm not your Aunt Kathy." ...
