Aaah family dinners. A time to feast on sarcasm, insult, and Vicki's delicious home cooking.
It was at said daily gathering that we could be found devouring the spoils of a newly purchased grill when all of a sudden the door bell rang. Weary of robbers and environmentalists, mom and I sent dad to deal with the interruption. He opened the door and adjusted his gaze to the pudgy ten year old standing on our porch. Mom and I tried to decipher the child's muffled request over the crunch of our perfectly salted peas. Dad closed the door and returned to the table with a smirk on his face.
Dad: The kid wanted to mow our lawn. He and his sister were pulling a wagon with a weed whacker and some wires and tools.
Dad chuckled as he scooped up some peas with his fork.
Dad: Hey! (he pointed his fork at me) You should go ask if they have any jobs!
This is what I'm dealing with, people. Send sympathy cards.
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2 comments:
I don't know...it could be a sweet job.
You'd get to spend the summer outside, and it would be better than working with old people.
new york has lots of lawns. no peas though. i hate peas.
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