“Yeah. Fine. Whatever”—and he had to laugh when Joe wrinkled
“God, cursing used to be honest, you know? When did ‘whatever’
come to mean ‘fuck you’?”
“You know, for a guy with a ponytail and a soul patch, you sound
an awful lot like my grandmother.”
“You know, for a kid who weighs ninety-eight pounds soaking
wet, you sure got a mouth on you.”
“Yeah, wanna know what I can do with it?”
Joe grimaced again. “Kid? You know what? I’m going in there,
and I’m going to eat pizza and congratulate all my friends on a job well
done. I’m going to have a beer, and I’m going to hope that maybe
Sharon Rosenthal, the pretty girl with the long, blonde hair—”
“The one with the sweater that could fit me?”
“You should be so well-endowed. Yeah, her. I’m going to go
make out with her. She might even spend the night. If that happens,
you’re going to sleep in my guest bedroom, do your English packet in
the morning, and make plans to become a truly outstanding human
being—in two or so years, okay?”
Casey shook his head, at a loss. “You know, I don’t think I’ve
met another human being so opposed to a blowjob before.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “That’s because you haven’t offered one to
the male half of the people in that room. And you’re not going to. You
go to school, find the other sixteen-year-old boys, and score all the tail
you can manage. But you hit on me too hard and I’m going to knock
you into the nearest foster home, you hear me? I don’t do that. And as
far as I remember, you must have said sixty thousand times that you
didn’t want to do that either!”
And while we’re talking about snark, I FINALLY remembered that thing that Zoomboy said to me that needed to be mentioned in the blog. We were arguing over the air conditioning in the car. It was 106, (according to the car’s thermometer) and I had the A/C pumping as high as it could go. Zoomboy complained the entire way to Target, although his sisters were both begging for me to make it, by magic, even cooler in the car.
“It’s too cold!” he said when we were walking through Target.
“It’s not even cold enough!” I snapped back, because it wasn’t!
Instead of getting mad at me, Zoomboy smiled beatifically and patted my (admittedly enhanced) waistline. And then, in a voice very like a television announcer’s, he said:
“The arctic seal has its own insulation against the cold.”
I stopped dead in Target and stared at him, not sure he’d really said what he’d just said, and he smiled at me innocently and wandered off to get a polo shirt, because he really likes those.
“Why you little sphincter…” I said, and Chicken and I just looked at each other.
“Laugh or strangle him?” she asked.
“I’ll let you know when I decide.”
I still don’t know–but you gotta admit, it was a fine example of snark!