If you were stranded on an island and could pick one thing to have with you, what would it be, and why?
You took the spatula
and stuck it in the kitty litter.
I rebutted defiantly,
but you cast your spell
with that knowing look in your eye.
So I shut my hole in disbelief,
while you scraped droppings and urine
with the utensil I lovingly made last night’s dinner with.
But you weren’t there to even notice,
so none of that would have made you any difference.
You finished your charade
and handed the new janitorial device to me for washing.
I gawped and laughed and hee-hawed-
and you raised your eyebrows as if to slap me.
But you hadn’t reached that point,
you hadn’t crossed that line
because you knew I could physically kick your ass.
When you turned your back,
I threw it in the trash, carefully concealing it.
It was the funniest thing I had ever seen you do yet.
But your humor would be an outpouring,
and my plot thickened as I continued it,
making homemade brownies…