The Battle for the Couch

The Girl came over this afternoon (she spends more time at my place than she does hers, even though mine is smaller, messier, and features barely functional central AC, but she won’t move in, despite how many times I’ve pointed that out to her) and we watched Mall Cop. Once that was done, we ate supper and started surfing through the TV channels.

After a couple minutes of not finding anything, I get up to go use the bathroom. I shut the door and stand there getting ready to do my business. About that time, I heard a crash and the loudest shriek in my life. I zip up and run out of the bathroom with the deadliest thing I could find, a plunger. I step into the living area and the Girl has sought refuge behind my joke of an entertainment center. I ask her whats wrong, and she sobbingly complains of a cockroach that magically appeared on the opposite arm of the couch. She pointed it out to me during her narrative of events, and it was still sitting on the arm of the couch.

At that point, I discovered the worst thing a guy can do in that situation. I busted out laughing. I laughed so hard my side began to hurt. The Girl did not share my humorous outlook, and was promptly less than pleased with me (a.k.a. she was very pissed).

So I put the plunger back and get the fly swatter. During my laughter, it had scurried off to points unknown, and I couldn’t find it. Because I couldn’t find it, the Girl refuses to sit on the couch. Being broke, I only have a couch, meaning no love seat or chair. The solution? She wheels in my computer chair.

I sit down on the couch and get comfy. The Girl is still afraid for her life, so she sits in a way to see both the TV and the couch. A few minutes later, she shrieks again and run towards my entertainment center. I look over on the arm of the couch, and what do you know, the roach is back. I grab the flyswatter. The roach seeks refuge on the wall, but I quickly dispatch of it. I give it a nice viking funeral, meaning I flushed his carcass down the toilet.

Thus ended the Battle for the Couch.

I expected a victory kiss, or at least a victory hug, but the Girl decides otherwise and we have the following conversation:

Girl: What you did was not nice. You shouldn’t have laughed at me like that. You hurt my feelings. Your lucky I don’t make you sleep on the couch tonight.

Me:  How do you expect to make me sleep on the couch tonight, when I pay the rent and the bills for this apartment?

Needless to say, I’m not sleeping on the couch, but the Girl is not a happy camper.

Self, learn to not be such a smart ass sometimes.

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