That's Not Chocolate...

Last Wednesday night I came home pretty late from work, as in around bedtime, which in our home is 10 pm. I walked in the door tired from the day and Will came walking out from the bedroom in his underwear and he had a slight glaze over his eyes. He smiled and welcomed me home and asked how my day was. I said that it was fine and then I asked him if he was high.

No, he wasn’t high.

“Are you drunk?”

No, he wasn’t drunk.

“What’s going on? You look kind of weird.”

He replied; “I just smeared dog shit on someone’s driver’s side car door handle.”

Me; “Oh.”

Will; “Yeah. The asshole was double parked.”

Me; “That’ll show him.”

Will; “Well, it’s those assholes that are dealing over there in that rental…you know, the guy with the super tight pants who sports the camel toe? Yeah, them. Something’s going on over there. Cars come in and out quite a bit at night and drive way too fast through the complex. They’re not selling Girl Scout cookies.”

I kind of giggled and asked; “And that one derelict has a brand new Mercedes. No one saw you, did they?”

Will; “No, I did it just how you told me to.”

Me; “WHAT? What do you mean, ‘just how you told me to’?”

Will; “Remember? The other night? You said how you’d like to go and smear dog shit up into someone’s car door handle that you don’t like. See? It was your idea.”

Me; “Yes, I guess it was. Well, a job well done, Bubba…A job well done.”