They’re on the elevator on the third floor, trying to get to the fourth. He pushes the button for the basement, realizes his mistake, and hits the button for four. Only the basement button lights up.
She says, “That’s the wrong floor.”
“I can see that,” he says, stabbing the #4 button repeatedly.
“I’m just saying.”
“Can’t you see that I see I made a mistake?”
“I just didn’t know if you knew.”
“You don’t have to rub it in.”
“I wasn’t trying to chastise you, I’m just trying to get the right button pushed.”
“Oh come on. You know what it was always like for me, growing up, with my mother always breathing down my neck. Don’t micromanage me.” She doesn’t say anything. “You know, if you pushed the wrong button and I said something about it, you’d be so mad.”
“You’d call me a dick if I did that.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth, you know. You’re making this up.”
“You’d call me a fucking ass hole.” He stabs the button to punctuate each syllable. “Mother. Fucking. Ass. Hole.”
Thanks, I needed that. Nicely done too. Marriage and elevators can be a bitch.
Here’s the version I just had:
She says, “you don’t give a fok to my family”.
“My family isn’t trying to move in with us”, I say.
“You only think money and mean to my mom”.
“If my mom moved in today you’d divorce me tomorrow”.
I like it. Almost like a poem, but not. And short/interesting enough to keep me in.
Written so totally believable
funny and true
“I’m just trying to get the right button pushed.” LOVE the double meaning!
I know these people. (A little too well.) Well done.
The best of Seattle happens in the elevator in the parking garage on 4th and Seneca.
you are back. 🙂
Yeah! What Karin said! Back and pushing my buttons.
Beautifully written. 🙂