After we moved in together I got a phone call at work. “Steve, I was cleaning up and found that a piece of my grandmothers silver is missing.” Now when I looked over at the Eagle leather bar and saw this muscle bound Italian decked out in his leather I never dreamed that someday he’d be asking me about his Grandmothers silver.
Go figure.
Uh, okay where did you use it last? Maybe it’s stuck in the dishwasher?” “Okay, first silver does not go in the dishwasher. Second I have not used it. Have you? Not having a clue what I was about to get into I replied “I only use the knifes to screw in the switch plate covers.”
Wow that really was the wrong thing to say.
It’s a spoon Steven (I love it when he calls me Steven) One of my grandmother’s silver spoons it has been in the family for generations.
I really have no concept of having things ‘in the family for generations’ because Mormons are always melting their shit down to make some sort of new temple. Buy some damn drywall freaks.
Suddenly it hits me; Fuzzy is accusing me of pilfering the silver. Oh my god! Okay so he wasn’t accusing me. Just concerned that I pawned his silver spoon to buy crack. He asked, “Maybe you took a spoon to work to eat lunch and forgot it?” I love that he loves me so much that he quickly built an alibi to cover me to protect me from my self. Suddenly I thought, I could have killed a man and Fuzzy would nervously stammer. “ Ummm He jumped forward and fell on your spoon…. seven times… yeah that’s it.”
“No, I don’t use your silver to eat my lunches and no I have not touched it, I would never, I know how much it means to you. This ended the CSI interrogation. I promised I would help him look for it later that evening. We did not find it and sadly Fuzzy came to live with the fact that the family silver was not whole. So neither was Fuzzy.
So on a completely unrelated note, Yesterday I was finally cleaning out my desk and digging out my files when I reach back to the back of 2007’s files and pull out a spoon. The spoon. I am in SOOOOO much fucking trouble. I think I’ll just slip it into the solid oak velvet lined box with the family crest upon the top. Maybe he won’t notice. And while we’re keeping secrets let’s not tell him that I hold the dog up so he can play piano with his paws.
Go figure.
Uh, okay where did you use it last? Maybe it’s stuck in the dishwasher?” “Okay, first silver does not go in the dishwasher. Second I have not used it. Have you? Not having a clue what I was about to get into I replied “I only use the knifes to screw in the switch plate covers.”
Wow that really was the wrong thing to say.
It’s a spoon Steven (I love it when he calls me Steven) One of my grandmother’s silver spoons it has been in the family for generations.
I really have no concept of having things ‘in the family for generations’ because Mormons are always melting their shit down to make some sort of new temple. Buy some damn drywall freaks.
Suddenly it hits me; Fuzzy is accusing me of pilfering the silver. Oh my god! Okay so he wasn’t accusing me. Just concerned that I pawned his silver spoon to buy crack. He asked, “Maybe you took a spoon to work to eat lunch and forgot it?” I love that he loves me so much that he quickly built an alibi to cover me to protect me from my self. Suddenly I thought, I could have killed a man and Fuzzy would nervously stammer. “ Ummm He jumped forward and fell on your spoon…. seven times… yeah that’s it.”
“No, I don’t use your silver to eat my lunches and no I have not touched it, I would never, I know how much it means to you. This ended the CSI interrogation. I promised I would help him look for it later that evening. We did not find it and sadly Fuzzy came to live with the fact that the family silver was not whole. So neither was Fuzzy.
So on a completely unrelated note, Yesterday I was finally cleaning out my desk and digging out my files when I reach back to the back of 2007’s files and pull out a spoon. The spoon. I am in SOOOOO much fucking trouble. I think I’ll just slip it into the solid oak velvet lined box with the family crest upon the top. Maybe he won’t notice. And while we’re keeping secrets let’s not tell him that I hold the dog up so he can play piano with his paws.
This is one of the funniest things I have heard! Put the silver back and if ever asked if you know how it returned ask what silver is he talking about....and the dog thing - certain things are left alone. Thanks for making my day!
ReplyDeleteYou are so busted. One thing you could do is tell him about the spoon and then immediately after telling him distract him with the dog at the piano. If you're lucky the dog at the piano cute overload/disgust will distract from the spoon issue.
ReplyDeleteBUSTED - cn
ReplyDeleteI have to agree with Adam, but that dog better know something other than Chopsticks or Heart & Soul! I think Beethoven's 5th would be fairly easy to teach him!
ReplyDeleteMyself, I'd probably just re-hide it somewhere he'd find it, someday.
ReplyDelete"How did my spoon get mixed with the Christmas stuff?"
My dad always came home from parties with someone's spoon in the breast pocket of his sportcoat...thats where he put them when eating a buffet at someone's house...then he never had dessert. My mom always found herself calling 'round to see who was missing a spoon.
ReplyDeleteDo buttless chaps have pockets? You could hide it in Fuzzy's buttless chaps
HA HA HA - That was so funny, I got close to peeing a little over the dog playing the piano.
ReplyDeleteBest to put the spoon somewhere where Fuzzy would find it himself. Like his underwear drawer. When questioned, act innocent.
ReplyDelete