This is the second part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I before continuing.
“Where’s the paper?” Ron demanded.
“It’s here on the table.”
“Bring it to me.”
“Get it yourself.”
“It’s closer to you.”
“Yeah, but you’re not. I’d have to walk farther to give it to you than you’d have to walk to fetch it for yourself.”
“Bring me my paper, Connie! My money pays for the subscription, so it’s my paper.”
“Fine. Come and get your paper.”
“You’re my wife. You’re supposed to give me what I want, when I want it.”
Connie threw the paper at him. It bounced off his shoulder and landed next to him on the sofa. He did not thank her.
A few minutes later, he said, “What’s for dinner?”
“What do you want?” Her voice was extra sweet – something Ron knew to be a warning sign, but since he couldn’t think what she might be upset about, he decided to ignore it.
“I dunno,” he grumbled, not looking up from his paper. After a moment he said, “Do we have any ice cream?”
“Sure. You want ice cream for dinner?”
“I do. What’s the point of growing up and buying your own stuff if you can’t have ice cream for dinner every now and then?”
“Beats me. You go ahead and give yourself diabetes. I’m just going to make myself a salad.”
“You know Doug says his wife won’t let him eat dessert until after he’s eaten all his vegetables?” Ron laughed. “She treats him like a child! Can you believe that?”
“Nope. I can’t imagine why any woman would encourage her husband to be healthy. He might live longer.” She shuddered as she uttered the last sentence in what was barely a whisper.
“Are you getting me my ice cream?” Ron growled.
“Ay aye, captain. And may you choke on it.”
“What was that?”
“I said let me go check on it. You want me to bring your cigarettes while I’m at it?”
“That would be delightful.”
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