Me: “The Crooked Man with the Crooked Cane, and the Mangy Dog that follows the same…”
Rummer John: “That’s a lot of words when just saying ‘Papa Legba’ would work more efficiently.”
Me: “I’m a writer. I use words. Mostly in horrid combinations and to the distress of the teachers of my youth. Deal.”
RJ: ~hard laughter~ “Okay… this Crooked Man… what of him?”
Me: “He wasn’t surprised by the shells.”
RJ: “So it would appear.”
Me: “And neither was La Sirene when she challenged me for them.”
RJ: “This too, is in the public record.”
Me: “I’m looking at fourteen shells, and not seeing the shenanigans it took to get those shells on my car that day.”
RJ: “Go on…”
Me: “You want something pithy and cliché, or an honest observation?”
RJ: “There is no such thing as an honest observation. Every observer has an agenda to find confirmation for. Speak your mind, Girl.”
Me: “I’m using the wrong value system.”
RJ: “Well, hell, you might be maturing after all. Here, have some rum to celebrate.”
Me: ~stinkeye~
RJ: ~hard laughter~