Tuesday, June 26, 2007

exploitation: verbatim

her, worriedly peering into the newly-established fish tank: "do you think there are too many bubbles for this tank? i'm worried that it's too chaotic for them in there!"

me, rolling my eyes at her neuroticism, which now, apparently, extends to our fish: "i think they're fine. if you're so worried, though, just change the bubbler thing..."

her: "well, can you help me?"

me, hobbling (as a result of a fresh football injury to my groin) to the bathroom: "help you? what do you need help with?"

her: "well, putting it in there."

me, peeing, yelling incredulously over the bathroom fan: "you don't need two people for that! you just reach in there and change the tube-y thing, i've done it about four times today alone!"

her, muffled: "i just don't want them to nibble my hand..."

me: "what? are you serious?!" (starts to giggle)

her, tersely: "shut up, b!"

me, hobbling back out to check if she's for real (and she is): "they don't even have teeth!"

her, doubtfully, eyeing 'the guys' (our fish, in plural): "how do you know that?"

me, snickering: "i'm pretty sure guppies don't have teeth..." (as i proceed to watch her haul up the bubbler thing by the tube so her hand doesn't touch the water) "oh my god, you're serious..." (dissolving into laughter that sounds strangely like a smoker's cough, complete with whistling exhalations)

her, fiercely, while nervously watching the opposite side of the tank where the fish have congregated: "shut up, b...! okay, where are the guysOHGOD!!" (jumping backwards, yelling at our yellow guppy) "a-lice!! get lost! why is she over here? she's supposed to be afraid of ME!!"

me: clutching my stomach and making squeaking sounds

her, angrily, eyes flitting at warp-speed between submerged hand and 'the guys': "shut UP, b!"

me: shaking in near-silent mirth with tears running down my cheeks

her, panicked: "why are they not staying OVER there?!"

me, gasping: "i...am....so...going..........to blog this!"

her: squealing as lincoln (the molly) crosses into her half of the tank

me, trying to catch my breath: "come on...are you serious here?"

her, pleadingly: "stop making fun of me and help me!"

me: doubled over again

her, desperately, doing a real hack-job of sinking a bubbling wand to the bottom while trying not to put her hands in the water: "come on! i need some help!!"

me: useless

her, on the brink of hysteria: "you think this is reaaallly funny, don't you?!" (to our blue guppy): "come ON, che, get away from here!!!"

...and on it went. ten minutes later, here i sit with a throbbing groin, rivulets of salt down my cheeks and a sore gut from laughing, when i hear:

"are you blogging in there, b?"


(quietly resentful): "smartass..."

1 comment:

Amanda said...