ME: What’s the matter, Grammy?
GRAMMY: (looking out window) The damn neighborhood, that’s what’s the matter. It’s been going to pot ever since that artist fella moved in. You could go blind looking at that damned house. And what the hell kind of bird is that anyway?
ME: I like it. It’s artistic and colorful.
GRAMMY: Yeah. Exactly like that ex-husband of yours. And we all know how that turned out.
ME: Grammy!
GRAMMY: Oh, don’t get your undies all tied up in a knot. I’m not blaming you. How were you supposed to know he was gay? That girlie walk of his certainly didn’t give it away.
ME: Jules isn’t gay, Grammy.
GRAMMY: Okay, then. He’s an idiot. Feel better?
GRAMMY: (looking out window) The damn neighborhood, that’s what’s the matter. It’s been going to pot ever since that artist fella moved in. You could go blind looking at that damned house. And what the hell kind of bird is that anyway?
ME: I like it. It’s artistic and colorful.
GRAMMY: Yeah. Exactly like that ex-husband of yours. And we all know how that turned out.
ME: Grammy!
GRAMMY: Oh, don’t get your undies all tied up in a knot. I’m not blaming you. How were you supposed to know he was gay? That girlie walk of his certainly didn’t give it away.
ME: Jules isn’t gay, Grammy.
GRAMMY: Okay, then. He’s an idiot. Feel better?
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