Saint Bean

I alluded to this a bit yesterday bu today you're getting the full story.

Thursday, Bean was sharpening Tallulah's pencils for Supply Drop-off Night,

All 3 Million of them.

Perry walked by.

Keep in mind, we are all in Bean and My house.

Our house.

Not Perry's house.

The house that Perry chose not to live in anymore when he chose not to work on our marriage anymore.

The house that he knew I would bodily throw him out of when he busted out that obelisk that broke the camel's back of our marriage.

The one that Bean moved into.

The one that Bean has made into a home again.

That's the house we were in.



So he walks by Bean sharpening 3 million of his daughter's pencils to take to school and he says:

So you finally found a job suited to your education level?


I'll wait while you pick your jaw up off the floor.






I'll wait a little longer while you sputter and cuss.





Bean didn't hit him.

I didn't hit him. Or yell at him, or back him into a corner and have him begging me to stop berating him within an inch of his life. (I've done that to him before, and I'm only using a little hyperbole).

Though if you can picture Bean bodily holding me, while my feet kicked uselessly at the air and my hands morphed into claws, you're not far off.

Neither of us said a fucking word.

But you know what, Perry??

Don't ask me for gas money again.