Thugs Like Melon

This morning, as I was cutting up a watermelon for breakfast, Sean came skulking into the kitchen with deeply set brow and snarly lip…

 

Sean: Hey Bah-tenduh. (pauses and turns back into my Seanie) Hey Mom, pretend I’m a thug, and you’re a bartender.  And bartenders are usually boys, so you pretend to be a boy for now.

(Re-brows) Hey Bah-tenduh.

 Me: Do you know what a thug is?

Sean: Yeah.  It’s a robber.

Me: Okay…close enough.

Sean: Hey Bah-tenduh.

Me: (browing up and looking mean) Yeah?  Whadaya want?

Sean: I would like some watermelon, please.

Me: Okay.

(Pause.  Sean watches me cut up the rind to throw it away.  It takes forever.)

Sean: (whispers…still in character) Stat. (pause) Pron’o.

Me: (as mom) Okay, okay!  Gimme a minute.  Sheesh.

 

With that, he sauntered off to the table to wait, patiently but TOUGHLY, for his watermelon.  All I know is that not many thugs are that nice, so I must have a really high-class establishment.

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