White Trash Tuesday- Chapter Ninety-Two
It was white trash Tuesday. Carrie and June were
sitting in their living room eating chicken and watching
soap operas. There was a knock on the door. June got up
and answered it. Max was standing there with his chicken in
his hand.
“You made it for white trash Tuesday!” June said,
laughing.
“Yeah, but you started without me,” he said, pretending
to be angry. “Hi Carrie.
“Hi Max,” Carrie said.
“Well, come in!” June said. “Sit down, eat your
chicken.” Max shut the door behind him and handed his
chicken to June so he could take his coat off. He took it
back from her and they sat down at the coffee table.
“I was right,” Max said as he opened his meal, “Angela
and Love are travelling together.”
“You know for sure?” June said.
“Yeah, they told me,” he said. “I’d like to make a
proposal.”
“It would never work between us, Max,” June said
dramatically.
“Not that kind of proposal,” Max said.
“And what is your proposal, Max?” Carrie asked.
“I propose,” he said, “that white trash Tuesday include
drinking alcohol in the afternoon.” Carrie and June both
nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s a valid proposal,” June said.
“Yeah, it is,” Carrie said, “but what if we have a
class to go to when we’re done here.”
“Pfft. It’s white trash Tuesday,” Max said.
“He has a point,” said June.
“But. . .” said Carrie.
“White trash Tuesday!” Max interrupted.
“Alcohol in the afternoon could be optional,” June
said. “But we’ll still have to think about it, because it
is a new and radical idea.”
“Fair enough,” Max said. “So, are we white trash?”
“We are on Tuesdays,” June reminded him.
“Right,” Max said. “Because on Tuesday we know what’s
going on around us but we don’t care because we’re eating
chicken and drinking booze.”
“Maybe booze,” Carrie corrected.
“Right. All we need is greasy chicken, and maybe
booze. Who cares what’s going on out there,” he said.
“Exactly,” June said.
The end!
sitting in their living room eating chicken and watching
soap operas. There was a knock on the door. June got up
and answered it. Max was standing there with his chicken in
his hand.
“You made it for white trash Tuesday!” June said,
laughing.
“Yeah, but you started without me,” he said, pretending
to be angry. “Hi Carrie.
“Hi Max,” Carrie said.
“Well, come in!” June said. “Sit down, eat your
chicken.” Max shut the door behind him and handed his
chicken to June so he could take his coat off. He took it
back from her and they sat down at the coffee table.
“I was right,” Max said as he opened his meal, “Angela
and Love are travelling together.”
“You know for sure?” June said.
“Yeah, they told me,” he said. “I’d like to make a
proposal.”
“It would never work between us, Max,” June said
dramatically.
“Not that kind of proposal,” Max said.
“And what is your proposal, Max?” Carrie asked.
“I propose,” he said, “that white trash Tuesday include
drinking alcohol in the afternoon.” Carrie and June both
nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s a valid proposal,” June said.
“Yeah, it is,” Carrie said, “but what if we have a
class to go to when we’re done here.”
“Pfft. It’s white trash Tuesday,” Max said.
“He has a point,” said June.
“But. . .” said Carrie.
“White trash Tuesday!” Max interrupted.
“Alcohol in the afternoon could be optional,” June
said. “But we’ll still have to think about it, because it
is a new and radical idea.”
“Fair enough,” Max said. “So, are we white trash?”
“We are on Tuesdays,” June reminded him.
“Right,” Max said. “Because on Tuesday we know what’s
going on around us but we don’t care because we’re eating
chicken and drinking booze.”
“Maybe booze,” Carrie corrected.
“Right. All we need is greasy chicken, and maybe
booze. Who cares what’s going on out there,” he said.
“Exactly,” June said.
The end!