At Least They're Committed

“Oh my GOD! What the FAWK!”

And like that he’s here. Well, not God, but Gabriel and I haven’t seen him in a bit so he must be hurting for drama.

“What?” his eyes are sparkling.

“Three more people just signed up for this event! That makes SIX in the past two days. The deadline was THURSDAY! LAST THURSDAY! And they’re signing up now?”

“Wow.” Strange, the gleam in his eye has disappeared. “There are children dying of AIDS and Ebola in Africa and you’re wigging out about people who registered late for an event?”

He plops on the bed, flopping backward onto the sheets, looking skyward. My head swivels his direction and I glare, “Starving children in Africa or the U.S. or anywhere are more than welcome, as are the homeless and hungry adults if I were to have my way . . . people with an overblown sense of importance and entitlement who don’t feel like they need to follow the rules, are not.”

“Not your call and, besides, you don’t know their stories. Might be legit.”

“Are they?”

“Mostly, no,” he chuckles.

*snort*

He rolls up, leaning on his elbow. “Nice hair by the way, very Bon Jovi.”

The tension breaks and I straighten up. “Aw! Glad you like it. I’ll likely wear it like this a lot cuz with everything that’s going on, I don’t have time to actually style it.”

“Yeah, you’ve definitely been livin’ on a prayer lately.”

“STOP! . . . besides, Demon Spawn says it looks good and not too 80s cuz it’s not spiked on top.”

“Absolutely,” he smirks. “It goes well with the smile on your lips and the blood red nails on your fingertips.”

“That’s just uncalled for.”

“Oh now, lighten up. You’re going to give love a bad name.”

“JESUS!”

“He’s not here, but I am, and I’m bored and I just want to live while I’m alive,” his smile is cruel and downright ghastly now.

I don’t bite, instead I ponder, “Are you alive? Really? As in technically?”

“Yes . . . and so are you. So stop stressing about stupid stuff like people’s failure to adhere to deadlines and come to bed.”

He’s staying. SWEET! Maybe we can go walking tonight. I shut down, kick off my shoes (stained with mud and grass from a day full of yardwork), and crawl under the sheet. “You’re right, you’re right, of course you’re right. Thank you for the reality check.”

“No prob. I’ll be there for you . . . these five words I swear to you . . . ”

“DAMMIT!”