Making Wind


Nitram: Boy, you sure were hootin’ a lot last night.
Me: It’s your fault.
Nitram: How is it my fault! I wasn’t—
Me (making arm motions like I’m shaking out a big sheet): You came in and went!
Nitram: But I wasn’t—
Me: I swear! It’s your fault. You make wind when you get in and let the cold air in and wake me up.
Nitram: But I wasn’t even IN THE ROOM.
Me (*blink* *blink*): Oh. Well. It’s still your fault.
Nitram: Oh, okay.
Me: Yeah, I was pre-hooting. For when you come in and— *waves arms around again, hoots*
Nitram: You’re crazy. *hoots back at me*

*both of us stand in the kitchen, waving our arms and hooting at each other*

Nitram: It was so loud.
Me: You could hear me from the other room?
Nitram: Yeah. *squinting and acting like a freak* aiee yay yi yi.
Me: Then it’s definitely your fault!
Nitram: How!?
Me: If you could hear me from the other room, it means I must have been having a nightmare, and you should have come in and pet my head.
Nitram: But, but — you would hit me like you always do when you’re asleep!
Me: *SMACK*
Nitram: Hey!
Me: *zzzzzzzzzzz*
Nitram: Oh, right.
Me (at the stove): Damn, these turnips are taking forever.
Nitram: I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better next time.
Me: What?
Nitram: Because it’s obviously my fault that the turnips are taking forever to cook.
Me: That’s right.

*we start hooting and waving our arms at each other again*

Nitram (cracking himself up): The best one…! This is the best one… *squints, bends over like an old man, wrinkles nose, shuffles across the kitchen, makes noise like a goose farting* hhhennnhhhhhhh… henhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Me: *collapsing onto chair laughing, falling right off it onto floor, laughing harder*
Nitram (pointing): Hahaha!
Me: Oww! It’s your fault!
Nitram (on the way out the door to volleyball): I HAVE TO GO NOW.

We kiss, making stupid hooting and croaking noises, and he shuffles out onto the porch in the old man stance, squinting and honking loudly. From across the drive I hear Tim, the neighbor: “Hi, Nitram!”

Hahaha! Tim must have thought… what? Or maybe he’d had enough beers that it didn’t matter.

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