Tweak: “Do we even OWN any bananas?”

Me: “Does anyone ever really own a banana?”

Tweak: “There’s always a banana in the night stand.”

Me: “That’s not a banana.”

 

I muscle up another box full of books and carry it out to the garage.

 

Tweak: “Lift with your legs.”

Me: “Shut with your mouth.”

 

I load the third or hundredth box into my car and pause to make coffee.

 

Tweak: “Where are you taking all of this stuff anyway?”

I stir in some caramel sauce.

Tweak: “Is there a shelter that needs five copies of ‘Fight Club’?”

I pour in two Splendas.

Tweak: “Are you having a bonfire?”

I open the cream.

Tweak: “Did something DIE?”

Me: “Only my dreams.”

 

I toss her a milk ring. She freezes, alert to the misdirection.

Me: “Tweak…”

Tweak: “What.”

She bites off the consonant. Every hair goes quiet. Even her eyes are still.

Me: “Tweak… We have to move.”

Tweak bursts out of the banana box like somebody dumped spiders on her.

Tweak: “NOOOOOOOO!”

And then set them on fire.

 

Tweak: “What exactly is WRONG with you? Can’t you haunt just ONE house for a while??”

Me: “Tweak…”

Tweak: “You’re like the un-dead renter!”

Me: “Tweak…”

Tweak: “If I had thumbs I would drive a stake through your heart!”

Bowie: “Did someone say ‘steak’?”

Bowie-dog peeks her dopey head around the corner.

Tweak: “Wait, that would never work. THAT WOULD IMPLY YOU HAD A HEART!!!”

 

To be continued…

21 May 2015, “Tolerating Tweak”