HB: Yeah. But she went to work last night.
SPAL: Only for three hours.
HB: Anyway, hop on up.
SPAL: You know I can’t.
HB: Then I get Mummsy and the bed all to myself.
SPAL: You’re sooooo stupid.
HB: You’re a pansy-boy.
SPAL: You’re rude!
HB: I get to be by Mummsy’s feet. My Mummsy. Not your Mummsy. Ha! Ha! Ha!
SPAL: But Mummsy can’t pick me up for another week or so.
HB: You should be glad about that. It means she can’t put either one of us in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture. Go get No-No.
SPAL: That’s useless. She hasn’t even lifted a finger to help Mummsy all week. She’s on another hypochondria kick where she can’t walk. Supposedly, she sprained her leg but only hobbles sometimes. Besides, it’s 11:42 AM and she’s still asleep.
HB: Go lay on top of her head and fart. That should wake her up.
SPAL: No it won’t. Nothing could wake her up. Not even a nuclear explosion.
HB: There’s a step in Mummsy closet then. Use that to get yourself up here. We’re going to have a fun day reading, writing, and watching television.
SPAL: What about snacks?
HB: That’s funny. Mummsy only eats healthy ones. Did you see what she had for breakfast? Sweet potato, quinoa, broccoli, and scrambled egg whites. YUCK!
SPAL: But I like broccoli and sweet potato.
HB: You would, pansy-boy. But you also like to eat out of the garbage.
SPAL: So do you.
HB: Yeah. But I’m tough. You’re not. Get up here and stop your whining.
SPAL: ****He walks toward the closet and scoots the step out toward the bed.***
SPAL: This is going to be a good day just hanging out with Mummsy in the bed.
HB: Yup. It sure is.
SPAL: This is great! This is the life! ***He rubs his face in the sheets and rolls a couple times.***
We hope hope you guys have a great Saturday, too.
