At Least They're Committed

“You finished without me.”

“That’s what she said.”

“No really, your self examination, good for you.”

“Lost interest.” We’re sitting on my bed, watching The Emperor’s New Groove projected on my bedroom wall. We plan to follow it up with Big Fish, but I’ll be asleep before it’s over.

I can hear the din of the boys and the basketball game on TV and they’re pulling up Funnyjunk on the laptop and that’s great, but I’m happier to be upstairs locked in my tiny bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed in my fuzzy sheep PJs watching a movie with someone of debatable existence. And we’re eating popcorn. Man, I have so been craving popcorn!

“The problem is . . . ” he says between bites.

“Shshshsh! Love this part! . . . . ‘Llama faaaaace!’”

He pauses momentarily. “The problem is you’ve been doing this ‘tough, seasoned journalist’ thing for years.”

“Yup, never really have given a shit how people perceived me,” I say, stuffing my face. “Just don’t insult my intelligence or integrity and it’s all good. . . . It’s just not the same without butter.”

” . . . and it only mattered now?”

“Yeah, but I always knew what that was about, so why even examine. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”

“Back up. You mentioned your integrity?”

“Yup. I love Kronk. And Eartha Kitt was a remarkable woman! Feel free to tell her I said so when you see her next.”

He leans back against the pillows. “Sure.”