NAHTMMM's Greatest Hits, Vol. i
[Brother is playing an old RPG on the computer. He's smashing around in a dungeon trying to remember / figure out what the password to get to the objective object is. I'm sitting behind him, editing a story and amusedly smugging for the camera cuz I remember the password]
Brother: [straining his brain] ...It's a "J" password, isn't it.
Me: [struck by the way he said it] Yeah, it's one of THEM. Stupid "J" passwords.'
Me: They're always code for, "Get this right when the time comes--if you get it wrong, we'll kill you horribly and feed your remains to your dog.
Me: "Unless you have a gazebo. In which case we'll kill you horribly and then put your remains in the gazebo.
Me: "And then we'll fill the gazebo with nuclear warheads and fire it at Brazil's White House."
Brother: Brazil doesn't have a White House. It has a Brown House.
Me: Well, it has a White House nowadays. [in the spirit of 'I'm just going to pretend you said something that would allow for this return to topic'] Horrible, isn't it?
Brother: No, it's nice that they gave it a new paint job.
Me: [giggling helplessly by now] "...And then we'll feed the radioactive remains to your dog."
Brother: [as the baddies continue to Insane-ify his characters] ...They got you too, didn't they?
* * * *
I would like to go on the record as disapproving of the violent abuse referred to in the above conversation. I do not adhere to such a code with respect to my own passwords, and it ought to be a federal penalty to mistreat a gazebo in such a senseless manner. (Same for mistreating a dog so badly.) But hey, I'm not the one who invented the code/tradition; don't blame me.
Brother: [straining his brain] ...It's a "J" password, isn't it.
Me: [struck by the way he said it] Yeah, it's one of THEM. Stupid "J" passwords.'
Me: They're always code for, "Get this right when the time comes--if you get it wrong, we'll kill you horribly and feed your remains to your dog.
Me: "Unless you have a gazebo. In which case we'll kill you horribly and then put your remains in the gazebo.
Me: "And then we'll fill the gazebo with nuclear warheads and fire it at Brazil's White House."
Brother: Brazil doesn't have a White House. It has a Brown House.
Me: Well, it has a White House nowadays. [in the spirit of 'I'm just going to pretend you said something that would allow for this return to topic'] Horrible, isn't it?
Brother: No, it's nice that they gave it a new paint job.
Me: [giggling helplessly by now] "...And then we'll feed the radioactive remains to your dog."
Brother: [as the baddies continue to Insane-ify his characters] ...They got you too, didn't they?
* * * *
I would like to go on the record as disapproving of the violent abuse referred to in the above conversation. I do not adhere to such a code with respect to my own passwords, and it ought to be a federal penalty to mistreat a gazebo in such a senseless manner. (Same for mistreating a dog so badly.) But hey, I'm not the one who invented the code/tradition; don't blame me.