Tweak: “Hey, whatcha doing?”

Me: “You know, you could knock.”

Tweak has pushed the bathroom door open with her head.  I am inside, seated, wearing half a birthday suit.

Tweak: “And miss this opportunity for worship?”

Tweak skirts along the tile wall, stops at the foot of the throne, and stares. Not at my face.

Me: “Hello, Kitty.”

Tweak: “Can I come up there?”

Me: “NO! Jeeze, Tweak, is nothing sacred?”

Tweak: “You make me pee in a box.”

Me: “And never once have I tried to get in your lap!”

Tweak: “I bury my own shit with my hands.”

Me: “Thankfully, my people have evolved.”

The toilet paper roll is empty, so I change it, threading the tissue under.

Tweak: “UNDER? You call that evolution?? You’re an abomination.”

I do not tell her that the reason the paper threads UNDER is because a PREVIOUS cat used to bat at the thing and unroll miles of it onto the floor causing shortages in several third world Walmarts. But Tweak does not believe in previous cats, so I keep my mouth shut.

Me: “Under, like taker. Under, like garments. Under, like my breath.”

Tweak: “Over, like my dead body.”

Me: “Under, like your mom.”

 

29 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak”