Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Much Ado about NOTHING

The Scab

I had an itch, and I scratched it. It bled. And there's a small scab on my forehead.

A couple of people have asked me "what happened? Did you walk into a door?" I said I was in a fight. I was jesting, but someone actually believed me. So I said "not really!" Somebody else said, "The'fight' story is so much better."

So, maybe I'll keep telling people I was in a brawl. If they ask for the details, I'll say, "I don't want to talk about it" in a pained voice. If they ask me if I won, I'll say "Of course! But I really don't want to talk about it" in an even more pained voice. And if they insist on knowing what the blowup was about, I'll just say, "Let me put it this way. I had an itch, and I scratched it" -- and let them assume what they will.

But I'll probably chicken out and say "not really!" I'd be terrible in a fight.

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