“She thinks my riding lawmower is sexy” doesn’t have the same ring
The Basement Dweller likes to earn his keep by doing yard work, because he is one of those crazy mother fuckers who relaxes by doing manual labor. Weirdo.
I’m outside hanging laundry because I’m a dirty crunchy little hippie, while Basement Dweller is riding around cutting the grass. No wait, I wasn’t hanging laundry. I was in the driveway with the basket of clothes, waiting for Basement Dweller to finish mowing the edges of the lower field. So I’m across the property from the mower and Basement Dweller hits a pile of rocks, probably left there by a bunch of (our) kids. The mower blades hit the pile and the rocks go FLYING everywhere.
That incident resulted in the following conversation. Monsieur Stoic is on the couch, I am in the kitchen washing my hands for lunch, and Basement Dweller has just come in from the yard.
Basement Dweller: “Ran over a pile of rocks while I was mowing.”
Stoic: “Ah ha. Where was that?”
Dweller: “On the other side of the driveway outside the lower field. Nailed the neighbor’s cars and everything.”
Me: “Yeah, got me in a leg a couple times, too. I have the bruises to prove it.”
Dweller: “Wait, it got you? All the way over there?”
Me: “Yeah. Shit was flying!”
Stoic: “What he’s not telling you, honey, is that I took out a contract on you. He’s supposed to carry it out.”
Me: “Welp, I guess he failed. Don’t pay him.”
Stoic: “Just because he missed doesn’t mean he’s supposed to stop trying.”
Dweller: “Yeah, I’ll have many other opportunities, believe me. I need the money.”
Me: “Well, you’d better dock his pay at the very least.”
Stoic: “Don’t worry, his salary will take a hit.”