When Liz first got Rupert she put a tasteful little ceramic plaque on her front door saying “Beware of Dog” in french.
Everything she does is like that, just a bit classier than the rest of the world.
David came home from Santa Fe last night.
This morning I went to put out the garbage and on David’s door was a huge paper target with bullet holes all over it. The figure on it was an alien because as David told me over dinner last night, they ran out of hombres what with the holidays and all.
You know, it’s like how in a regular part of the United States the holidays may make them run out of mistletoe.
He actually took that thing to the restaurant with us so he could proudly point out all the successful head shots.
Here’s the creepy part (like the rest of this isn’t creepy). He was regaling me with what kinds of bullets and guns he was using to put that alien in alien heaven but I was barely listening . I was scanning the menu so I could make up my mind between salmon and some kind of chicken.
He only caught my attention when he mentioned, while chastising me for not knowing whether Dirty Harry used a 45 or a 357 mango or something, that some of those bullet holes came from Miss Liz’ gun.
Now this is my sweet Liz who never even uses paper napkins, except the tiny decorated ones that she serves with cocktails and caviar. And this schmuck is her life partner.
I blamed myself. Just because he was there for me in my time of need I overlooked the damage he was capable of doing. I should have tried to sabotage that relationship years ago.
But then I got to thinking, He really does serve the best wine I’ve ever had. Why I bet there isn’t a bottle in his house that isn’t priced in double digits. And he’s really free with it.
Also with dave gone it could get pretty lonely on the 18th floor. David isn’t much but he is company. And I really love his kids.
So I figure maybe Liz can take care of herself.
In fact, now that she’s packing, I’m sure she can.
there are others available for your company on other floors.
Good to know.
How many of your readers have to tell their man/child to take the g-d alien off the g-d front door?! Young children live on our floor! xoxo