I Will Probably Be Doing Most of the Decorating

(Scene: Tuesday night. Random “Pier One Imports” in Central PA. Brooke and Army Boy are wandering, looking slightly lost. No, not quite. Brooke looks pensive. Army Boy looks boooored.)

Brooke: Oooo, pillows. Look at all the colors. *touches one to feel texture*

Army Boy: That’s not bad.

Brooke: Yeah, you’re right. We need a couch before we can get pillows.

(They continue walking)

Army Boy: That’s ugly…. That’s ugly….. ew, that’s ugly….

Brooke: Babe? Not constructive. Also, you’re saying that out loud.

AB: Oh right, sorry.

(Army Boy *points* at a display of elaborate Mardi Gras masks)

AB: Look! Feathers! (in an exaggerated whisper) For French ticklers!

Brooke: (blushing in mortification) I didn’t know you knew what that MEANT. Weren’t you raised among wolves Mennonites?

"It. Is. Fabulouuuusssss!"

(They meander over to a section of Christmas decorations, on sale, where Army Boy stops in puzzlement before a stack of decorative “trees.” I use the term loosely, because to women, they are CLEARLY trees. To men? Not so much.)

AB: (looks at Brooke. Looks at trees. Looks ….confused.) Hats?

Brooke: We’re leaving.

(And they do. End scene.)

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One thought on “I Will Probably Be Doing Most of the Decorating

  1. I always have to censor Tom in stores. It’s like the moment we cross the automatic door into any store his inner monologue shuts off. And he’s all, like “what do I care? If they know it’s ugly, maybe they won’t carry it… someone has to make them aware”. I always think of the people around us and that maybe one of them was thinking about buying that particular item and maybe they loved it and now maybe he’s made them doubt everything about their taste and inner interior decorator. Maybe they’re going to think that if they’re wrong about that, what else could they be wrong about and they start to question decisions they make and it just snowballs out of control and they suddenly aren’t sure of anything anymore and drown themselves in Absolut Citron and then go for a walk to try to clear their head and accidentally slip off a curb and get hit by a bus??? How will my husband feel THEN? See, I think about that stuff and I hiss another “shut UP” at him and pull him away from the huge gaudy wall clock at Target. Yeah… it’s ugly alright.

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