"Oh really?" said I.
"Yeah," said Noah. "One girl even asked, Are you a single dad?"
"She did not," I stated, indignant yet morbidly curious. "What'd you say?"
"I said, That depends on what you can do for me."
"You shut it."
"No, I didn't. I said, My wife's at home full of mucus with a broken tooth, eating Doritos, so...yes."
"I'm going to punch you in the nose. Really, what'd you say?"
"Listen lady, you're what, 18, 19? You're too young, too...firm."
It got physical after that last one. In the end, after some...advanced interrogation techniques, is I believe what the Bush administration called them...it came to light the whole thing was a fabrication. No girl asked him if he was a single dad, although many had gushed over Ethan and his adorable curly locks.
And as it happens, I wasn't just at home full of mucus with a broken tooth, eating Doritos. I was also wearing excessively large, lime-green Jockey briefs. Take THAT, sailorettes!
Go get 'em Erin! (And hope you feel better)
I'm single, but not a dad. If they want a child though, I am willing.
You funny. I hear the same fantasies from Bob nearly weekly, about how the young barely clad coeds in his classes fantasize about him.
Doritos are probably wonderful treatment for colds, huh? Good salt content, and the orange coloring fights the germs?
Oh you two are so adorable...
Kate—Thanks! I do feel better, although this cold seems to be hanging on. Or maybe I'm just playing it up for an excuse to wear briefs.
Towns—I think a child might actually improve your life. Have you considered adoption?
Lisa—My thoughts exactly about the Doritos. I think Noah may grow into a milder version of Mr. Malakoff in time.
EIL—You're so sweet to say that after the portrait of myself I just painted with words. Maybe I didn't properly express how large the briefs were.
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