Things had been a bit scratchy, and…what’s that…oh yes, the stench of burning martyr was most definitely in the air when I said…
“but I said I didn’t want to go out for breakfast…I told you, after that first place you rang was full…I said ‘no, don’t worry about it, I don’t want to go after all'”.
I sat on the lounge, then swung around, lifted my legs and reclined.
To which he said:
“yes, I know what you said, but I did what you meant”. His hands clasped the back of his chair, but the whites of his knuckles never show.
To which I replied, “no, I meant I didn’t want to go out for breakfast after all. If I’d still wanted to go out for breakfast, I would have said ‘yes, that’s a good idea, let’s try King William Road instead”.
I cleared my throat and thought to myself I really need a shower.
And do you know what he said? Can you believe it? He said:
“You can’t start changing the rules of engagement now”.
To be continued I suppose.
why don’t the whites of his knuckles show? I want to know.
(perhaps the beginnings of another best Australian short story here…?)
I like his comeback! Very dry. He probably has a point though…
After 20 years, it’s all transparent.