Saturday, January 26, 2013

100 Word Increments: Riding in Cars with Matt

On long car rides, I do my best to keep my husband entertained with scintillating conversation. Sometimes, he entertains me right back.


“Welcome to Killeen, Texas

“What kind of name is Killeen?” I asked.
Matt shrugged. “It’s better than Slaughter.”
“Slaughter, Texas,” he said.
I blinked. “Is it in Massacre County?”
“Something like that.”
“Is the Bates Motel there?”
“That’s the county seat.”
“Next to Happy Hannibal’s Steakhouse and BBQ?”
“It’s delicious.”
“You know, you can tell a lot about a state from the movies it brings to mind. KansasThe Wizard of Oz, all nostalgic and over the rainbow. Oklahoma – nice, musical cowboys singing about beautiful mornings. Texas, on the other hand, had a chainsaw massacre.”
“It’s because of the traffic here,” Matt said.



“I like this song,” I said. “So cheerful.”
Matt scoffed skeptically. “You like a song about partying too hard?”
“Yup,” I said. “It’s catchy!”
“You’ve never partied,” Matt said. “Ever.”
“It’s still a fun song.”
“Shouldn’t we try it at least once?”
“Let’s just live vicariously through the music video,” I said, staring at him.
Several minutes later, he noticed and said, “Yes?”
“Just looking at you,” I said. “Can you guess what I’m thinking about right now?”
“Curious F-ing George?”
“Beach balls?”
“No, it was ‘He’ll never guess what I’m thinking about right now.’”



“Look!” I said. “A fake kookaburra bird!”
“What?” said Matt.
“Kingfishers look just like kookaburras,” I explained. “My mom used to sing me the song.”
“What song?”
“Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree.
Merry merry king of the bushes he.
Laugh, kookaburra laugh
Kookaburra, gay your life must be,” I sang.
“Your mom used to sing to you about gay birds?” Matt said, laughing. “That explains sooo much about your childhood.”
“It’s a cute song! Don’t sully it!”
“Dear, you know I sully everything I touch,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, he poked me in the leg. “Touch!”


Thought Exercises

“Here’s one,” I said. “You drive a space taxi in the center of intergalactic commerce. Unfortunately, you’re a racist. What is the one alien species you never stop for?”
“Ferengi,” he said. “They never pay.”
I laughed. “Hutts, because they wreck the suspension.”
“Wookies, because they leave hair everywhere,” said Matt.
“No, I always stop for wookies. Otherwise, they’ll chase you down and rip your arms off.”
“Point,” said Matt. “Weeping Angels?”
“I don’t want to think about them!”
“It’s hard to drive when you have to keep watching them in the rearview mirror.”
“Conversation over!” I said.
(Don’t blink!)


Try Again.

We came up behind a truck transporting a pile of rebar, each piece as long as the semi trailer and as thick as my legs. “What does one even do with rebar that size?” I wondered aloud.
“Build bridges,” said Matt.
“Oh,” I said. We pulled up level with the truck. “Let’s try this again,” I said. “Think like a mad scientist. What does one even do with rebar that size?”
“Kinetic energy weapon.”
“Now you’re a spaceship captain.”
“Pretend you drive a Mech.”
“Field repairs.”
“You’re the iron chef.”
This kept us entertained through half of Texas.

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