Me: “It’s Monday, Tweak. You know what that means.”

Tweak: “You feed me? Finally?”

Me: “I feed you every day, Tweak. You are short-minded and thankless.”

Tweak: “You have a screw loose.”

Me: “I haven’t a screw of any kind.”

Tweak: “You should tell the world!”

Me: “Same thing we do every Monday.”

Tweak: “Your Alzheimer’s is setting in. Shall I start putting labels on things? ‘Table.’ ‘Chair.’ ‘Self-respect.’”

Me: “Monday is a day for fresh starts. An opportunity to wipe clean the fouled white boards. An occasion to scrape fresh the undergarments. A chance to puncture the calcified guilt-sausage in the meat-core of one’s stinking arteries with the Roto-Rooter of Remorse.”

Tweak: “And you’re single… why?”

Me: “Hey, Tweak, how many FINGER am I holding up?”

Tweak: “Want me to label that?”

 

4 August 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”