Fictionlet
“Hey,” Greg asked. “Is this my groove thing? I’ve been shaking it for ten minutes now and I can’t tell if I’m doing it right.”
“Stop,” said Brigid. “Just stop. Stop right now, or I’ll be forced to ram something sharp into your eye, and neither of us wants that tonight.”
Greg harumphed and flopped into his chair, sulkily. “This from the woman I once called ‘Smarty Panties.’ You disappoint me, young Brigid. You cut me to the quick!”
“This from the man who flees the room when confronted by the word ‘boobs!'”
“That’s true. After that brazen display, you of all people should know what a groove thing is, and when it’s being properly shaken!”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Just because I know when a groove thing is shaking, doesn’t mean I want to see it.”
“Don’t point that thing at me,” Greg replied, gesturing at her tongue. “You never know when it might go off!”
-The Gneech
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