HUMOR
Not Even Death Can Do Us Part: Celebrating 10 Happily-Long Years Of Marriage
But if you try it, Death, I’m taking you with me
Before I could marry my Mindy, I first had to defeat her son.
He was 8-years-old at the time, right on the cusp of achieving the capacity for adult-level hatred, so I had to defeat him fast, to unequivocally bowl him over to death with his love for me.
My attempt conveniently occurred in three acts:
The Meeting
The Dinner
And
The Home Inspection
ACT I: The Meeting
Mindy and I had been dating a few weeks before she decided I was ready to meet him.
The Sawyer.
She invited me to her house for the first time, positioned me in the dining room, then went upstairs to summon him.
I heard the squeak of his door. A pause. Then footsteps on the stairs, the sound of Mindy’s light steps swallowed up by the bare-footed thunder stepping of a boy who does not bend his knees, for he hates change more than a satyr hates pants.
Mindy led into the room a thin boy with a huge head of Jupiter-hurricane hair, a boy in blue shorts and nothing more, which made our…
