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- 29 09 2002 - 22:17 - katatonik

Last minute lipstick infidelity suspicion

It was with much surprise that I noticed: the coffeecup bore traces of lipstick. “Did you fool around while I was away?”, I asked, sternly.
He was in stitches.
“Honey, both you and I know there hasn’t been a lipstick-wearing soul in this apartment for ages, except for you, and you and I know your lipstick record is abysmal. A-bys-mal. Really.” That’s what he said. And more:
“Besides, you know, from tomorrow on there’s gonna be other people in this place, and god knows what they’re gonna do to me and all the rest of us. You are forsaking us, and you dare suspecting us of infidelity? What nerve!”
The other cups, the vacuum-cleaner, the toaster – they all nodded. I felt sorry. “Sorry, guys”, I said, “but I can’t take you all with me. You know – the cost. And you wouldn’t get along well with the cups, toasters, and vacuum-cleaners up there. That I know for sure. Trust me – it’s better for you to stay.”
They wouldn’t listen. Ah, what can you do: disappointed household appliances. I won’t even mention the utterly Tiresome Tirade of The Desk. Oh, and I still don’t know where the lipstick came from. But I found a pair of striped socks that hid away behind the cupboard.

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