High Noon

For the last time, I am not your Pooky-Wookums!

You're asking me to wait an hour to find out if

I'm going to be packing a blue bag or a green one.

I say it's too long to wait! I won't do it!

Kane will be a hungry man in half an hour and nobody's gonna do anything about it.

So…Al brings home this shiny new navy blue lunch bag, you know, the cooler type made of nylon with a spiffy zippered pocket in the front with insulated lining. It has a company logo on it from the place he works; they give them out each year at the company picnic. Looking at his well-worn green one, I figure the sensible thing to do is toss the old beat-up rag in the garbage and let him start using the new one.

But wait. I’ve lived with this man too long to do the sensible thing. I know the old one cannot be discarded without a fight. In the mood for some verbal sparing, I walk into the living room and hold the two bags aloft.

“I’m going to get rid of the green since you have this nice new blue one.”
“No! You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because everyone else will be using the blue ones, and I won’t be able to find mine in the cooler.”
“I can fix that,” I say, reaching for a black permanent marker. “I’ll just write Pooky-Wookums on this one. Then everyone will know it’s yours.”

I took the blue one to work today. It’s much nicer than the crappy ones my work gives out.