Letting Ana Go
“Mini-golf devolved into Rob making chip shots at the windmill and purposely trying to hit the rotating blades. He finally succeeded, sending an orange golf ball ricocheting directly into Jill’s leg. She was furious, and insisted we leave immediately so she could ice the purple welt halfway up her thigh. When we pulled into the driveway at their place, Jill stormed into the house, and Rob moaned and banged his head against the back of Jack’s seat three times.
Rob: Why do I do this shit?
Jack (sm...irking): You’re a glutton for punishment.
Rob: Or maybe I just like the makeup make-out session.
Jack (not smirking): Don’t. Make. Me. Come. Back. There.
Rob got out of the car quickly. Jack rolled his eyes.
Jack: It’s a good thing I like him. He’s a scoundrel.
Me: I’m pretty sure Jill doesn’t let him get away with a thing.
Jack: The question is, are you going to let me get away with anything?
Me (Southern accent): Why I de-clare, Mister Jack.
Jack laughed and reached over to take my hand.MoreLess
Rob: Why do I do this shit?
Jack (sm...irking): You’re a glutton for punishment.
Rob: Or maybe I just like the makeup make-out session.
Jack (not smirking): Don’t. Make. Me. Come. Back. There.
Rob got out of the car quickly. Jack rolled his eyes.
Jack: It’s a good thing I like him. He’s a scoundrel.
Me: I’m pretty sure Jill doesn’t let him get away with a thing.
Jack: The question is, are you going to let me get away with anything?
Me (Southern accent): Why I de-clare, Mister Jack.
Jack laughed and reached over to take my hand.MoreLess
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