protect the future
The ocassion: Company’s non-denominational holiday dinner
The location: The ghastly hunting club that gives everyone the creeps (…plus food poisoning)
The guests: All the slaves employees, the bosses, and their idiot wives (and this time around also their kids…kids!)
Now, Incubus and Succubus have a penchant for doing seating arrangements because they swear that they are the ultimate authority in throwing dinner parties. They have a blast doing this while everyone else is bloody miserable. Explain to me, what on earth I have in common with a spoiled and bratty 12 year old, whose father I’m not in the very least fond of.
But this time, they arrived late. Life-after-spawn has turned into a battle mission every time they go out. It takes them no less than 1 hour to get settled into the car and another hour to get out of the car. Good for me because I got to sit everyone exactly where I wanted. Carefully making sure I was in the complete opposite end of the table from everyone else.
But then…
Incubus: Beatrix I need you to change seats with Succubus
Beatrix Kiddo: Err, how come?
I: Because she has the spawn and she is getting a draft
BK: (I fucking hate how I am supposed to be responsible for everyone else’s choice to reproduce) But I have a cold. The draft would make it worse!
I: But the baby…
BK: Tell you what. Since I’m going to get worse if I sit there for the evening, why don’t we just agree that I’ll “work from home” for the next two days. After all I wouldn’t want to give you a cold. My main concern here being for the spawn getting sick too, of course
Muahahaha…caught between my sword of righteousness and a hard spot. It’s great to get to update the blog from the comfort of my own house, legs propped up on the couch and a glass of wine nearby. Long live the baby (and anything I can mooch off of Incubus in her name)!
Evil is contagious.