Psst! Titus!
Whassup, Charlie?
Don’t look up, but Dad just put on “the pants”…
How do you know that those are “the pants”? They look just like any other pair of pants to me…
Well, Titus, part of the reason that I’m the Queen of this here outfit is my attention to detail; it’s not so much the pants, but how he’s wearing them. You know, kind of furtively.
“Furtively”? Does that mean that he’s a bit gassy today? You know, as in “aromatic”?
No, you nimrod, as in he’s kind of skulking around all sneaky-like; I think that he’s trying to make a break for it without considering taking us.
Hmm… he IS acting a bit suspicious; where do you think
that he’s going? The Dollar store?
Where he thinks he’s going is totally irrelevant; what IS relevant is that once we get in the CRV, as he is powerless against our combined wills. We will no longer be passengers, but navigators of our own destination, and as such, can control our own destinies.
Sounds like you’re being a bit dramatic, Charlie; you sure that you’re not reading a bit more into it than you should?
You think so, you big stoner dog? Look around; what or who is missing in this here equation?
The last thing worthy of note that went missing around here was ye olde hairy bean bag when Mom took me to the vet…
Titus, you have to stop fixating on your purloined brovaries; I’m talking about MacDuff!
Wait just a gol-darned minute; where IS that bedraggled little ragg mopp?
If you had any sense of situational awareness, instead of spending the day examining the insides of your own eyelids you would have noticed that the Duffster has been sitting all incognito out by the SUV. He also knows that something is afoot.
Well, what are we waiting for? Sound the alarm! It’s time to amp up our energy to make it obvious to Dad that it’s easier to just cave to our combined wills than for him to risk soft tissue damage as we cavort about around him in paroxysms of angst!
Dad here; so this is how a simple trip to the hardware store to pick up sheet metal screws somehow resembles the Allies preparing for the D-Day invasion of France. I’m pretty sure that thousands of soldiers and hundreds of battle ships, landing craft, and close air support are much more manageable than four self-centered dogs and willful toddler.
Not that I’m bitter…
