Running Late

Wait…before you go, I just wanted to let you know, that I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re too damn stupid to understand. I’m sorry you were never taught how to read a clock. Damnit, I said 5 and you come waltzing in here at 15 after. I should have eaten. I don’t like cold food, but apparently you do. Apparently, the little world that revolves around your beer belly has to eat cold asparagus because you like it that way. Just another bump in the road, right? How many bumps until we tip over? Huh, Howard, how many bumps? And I asked you to fix that shower this weekend because the drain is clogged with hair, and did you? Nope! That shower doesn’t even drain now. Maybe your balding head should fix it since it is after all his fault. We can’t even shower until you feel like it. We can’t shower until you have time in between your under-achieving job, calling your mom and being a dumbass. Maybe you could squeeze it in, Hun? What do you think? God, I stayed with you through your infertile years. You can play with boxes all day at work but you sure as hell don’t know how to work mine. Oh, did that surprise you Howard? Catch you off guard? And just so you know, golden retrievers are not the same as children. I have needs! . . . . . Go ahead, leave. But just know, just know that if you walk out that door, don’t expect to come back . . . . . . . Wait, Howard, come back, I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me? . . . . . . . Fine! Go, but you’ll be back, no one else will put up with you . . . Wait, what about the shower?