Miss O's friend, Miss A, came over to play after school today. I don't know what the fuck they do up in that room when they get together, but when it's time for Miss A to leave, I go up there and A) the two of them are invariably wearing each others' clothes, and 2) every goddamn thing that Miss O owns is littered over every square inch of her floor.
So, Miss A's brother, Mr. R, came over to pick her up and there I was, stuck making small talk with a 10 year old.
ME: So, how's school going for ya there, Mr. R.
MR. R: Uh... okay.
[2 minutes of silence]
ME: Hey, how'd Halloween go for ya? Get a lot of candy?
MR. R: Yep.
ME: [looking at feet] That's cool... candy's excellent.
MR. R: Yeah.
[3 minutes of silence]
ME: Boy, those girls sure do take a long time up there. Ha! [silence] Uh, I'm gonna go see what's keeping them.
[run upstairs -- Miss O and Miss A are now in their underwear and are preparing to put on COMPLETELY DIFFERENT OUTFITS!!!]
ME: You guys, Miss A's brother is waiting. You've gotta get dressed in your own clothes and get downstairs. C'mon. Two minutes.
MISS O/MISS A: [ignoring the shit out of me] Okay.
[run back downstairs]
ME: They're still getting ready. I'll tell ya, they sure do like to take their time, those two.
MR. R: [silence]
[I realize that the onions I'd been sauteeing are now burning, so I excuse myself and run to stir them.]
MR. R: What're you cooking?
ME: Oh, just making some potato and turkey sausage soup.
MR. R: Oh.
ME: Soup sure is good on a chilly day like today, huh?
MR. R: What?
ME: I say, soup's good on a--You know... lemme go check on the girls again.
[I run back upstairs but cut the corner too close and ram my hip into the motherfucking banister -- pain shoots through body but I try to act like it's no big deal. I have potentially broken my pelvis.]
ME: [yelling up stairs] YOU GUYS! WE'RE WAITIN--
MISS O: Duh, Dad. We're right here. You don't have to yell.
ME: Oh... heh, hey guys. Good job. Come on down.
They finally make it downstairs and then have to do their goddamn secret handshake for five minutes. As I smell the onions turning into carbon in the kitchen, I just keep saying, "Oookay... there you go... finish off that handshake there... yep, all right now... that should do it... let's go... all right... just... that's it... just... JUST FINISH THE FUCKING HANDSHAKE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!!"
By the time they finally fucking leave the house, I've got an ulcer, a fractured pubis and burnt onions -- the spoils of yet another successful play-date.
I've really gotta find a friend my own age.