So I ignored it. I figured it was Miss O, and she's been driving us fucking crazy, of late, with her post go-to-bed filibustering. She either wanted some "fresh" water, which she could get by herself, or she wanted some lotion on some obscure body part, like the webbing between her big and second toe, which is bullshit, or she was "too hot" and wanted her hair in a pony-tail, which I made sure it already was before I left her room.
Then the faint voice grew louder and louder until I heard her screaming, "DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD!DAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!" Shit... maybe it was something serious! Maybe she was trying to get something from her dresser and it fell on top of her! Maybe her night-light exploded and her face was on fire! Maybe she had somehow tumbled through the screen on her window and was hanging onto the roof by one finger!!!!
I bolted up the stairs and into her room:
ME: [out-of-breath] WHAT IS IT, MISS O?!?!
MISS O: [calmly] Oh, hey Dad. Um... (10 second pause] what's seven plus seven?
3 comments:
I still ask my dad math questions.
That's called karma, bruther. Kill an innocent life and you're destined to a lifetime of sleepless nights. Last night I dreamt I was sitting in our backyard watching a colorful menagerie of exotic (and run of mill) birds harmoniously flitting about. I kid you not. Sweet dreams. --Seester
Yep. She was just trying to work out how many years bad luck you get for killing stuff. Don't blame her.
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