This is Owl pretending to be Abez. It was her idea. I wash my hands of all responsibility from this point on. For her take on me, stop by my blog at www.degrouchyowl.blogspot.com.
Left Brain – Right Brain
LB: Pst! Is she gone?
RB: Are you kidding me, is she ever here? I mean, ALL HERE?
LB: Hah hah, righto. Man, it’s so good to be able to relax and do what I want. Once she’s got an RPG in the PlayStation it’s like -FTHOOOM- no activity on the radar.
RB: It’s great, no more having to remember the dumbest stuff at the drop of a hat. I mean, where does she get off expecting us to provide the lyrics to the HMS Pinafore? She only heard it once, seven years ago!
LB: That’s not so bad, yesterday she relayed an entire BBC documentary to her sister – and of course, expected me to provide statistics for the thermodynamics of the African Shovel-Nosed Lizard. I was like, “Yeah right lady, you don’t pay me enough for that.” So I gave her a locker combination from gradeschool. She never knew the difference.
RB: Good one!
LB: Shoot, if I’m not happy, the girl gets none of my logical data processing. And if I’m really cheesed, she gets a brainfreeze, for nothing!
LB: But of course, all those numbers are wasted on her vacuous twit of a sibling. She just nods and smiles and tries to plan an escape. I could have told her that the Namib Golden Mole ejects her litter from the nest after they weight 450 grams instead of 45 and she’d have believed it, circus reject that she is.
RB: You tell it!
LB: There I was, dutifully reeling off insane fact – “When at rest, golden moles do not regulate their body temperature, and they have a low metabolic rate, which reduces their energy demands. They have extremely sensitive hearing and vibration detection, and can navigate underground with unerring accuracy…” and the sister was just like “A FAT FURRY MOLE, HOW CUTE! It’s just like a wombat but smaller! I want one!”
RB: I’m surprised you didn’t high tail it out of there. There’s only so much I’d be willing to take. I give you props.
LB: Where could I go? There’s no room in her ear and her sinuses are all drafty.
RB: You still coulda stuck it to her. Last week I didn’t feel like going to work so I called in sick. Every time she accessed me for point location and space analysis I put on the Calypso holding music she hates so much.
LB: There’s hope for you yet Dexter. A couple more nasties like that and the boys will be mistaking you for Sinister.
RB: Yeah and now consequently her parents think she’s the biggest space cadet. They don’t even bother asking her to find stuff any more. She spent half an hour looking for her shoes last week and you know where they were? ON HER FEET!
LB: That’s better than the time I convinced her that the prayer qibla was south. She was praying to Antartica for days before someone tipped her off. There must be some holy penguins down there.
RB: I know right, but man, it sorta backfired. Without Dexter R. Hemisphere, she was smashing into banisters and cabinets right and left. I was like “Danger Scotty, we need more power to the shields!”
LB: Whoa, that explains the damage I noticed up here. You gotta be more careful.
RB: I’ll try bu…Oh crap! She’s found a save-point in the videogame. She’s coming to!
LB: DIVE! DIVE! DIVE!
*Calpyso music begins*