Nursing in the den

I am a crabby mood lately. Like a lion who has been wounded nursing in its den, I groaned and ready to snap at anyone who unwittingly step into my den.

Down with a bad sore throat with a fever threatening to come, a phone call rouse me from my sleep.

``hello.'' My voice was dead.

``Err....Denise?''

``Yes.'' Dead.

``Eerrr......Is this Denise?''

``Yes!'' Swallowing "what do you want?!!!!"

``Oh hi I am Q.''

Yes, yes. I am so looking forward to your call. Grrrrrr......!!!!!!

I strained my rather sore throat and managed to say hi in a more chirpy voice. But it hurt.

``How are you?'' Q asked.

I rolled my eyes. I hate the how are you questions. When people ask that, they don't really want to know. I know they won't like it if I give an honest answer. Then why even ask? They put you in a position where you have to lie.

``Good.'' Voice's dead, not feigning chirpy anymore, my sharpened paws ready to go out if Q made the wrong move.

``Oh, you called yesterday. I am...So, I can xxx....how do you want to collect this?''

``I can walk over to pick it up. No worries. Thanks much.''

``Huh??? Walk over? Walk from where? Where are you now?''

He sounded scared. Gee, I am not a monster. Irritated because he made me sound like I am a monster.

``Where are you?"

Patience worn to its thinnest and snapped. Grrrrrr......... Paws out, but managed to stop in time.

``Opposite? I can collect it. No worries. Just leave it at the counter. Thanks.''

``Oh...hahaha....ok..ok." He gave a nervous laugh.

Frowned. Patience wearing even thinner. Thought it was the thinnest then.

Instead of examining my bad behavior and being repentant, I am scheming to ask him the "How are You" question the next time I meet him before he ask me.

This is how it will go:-

Q: Hi Denise. How..a..
(Me chimed in, cutting him off.)
Me: Hey hey. (in a high chirpy voice) How are you?
Q: Oh, good. good. (nobody will say bad. they always say good.)
Me: Good? Why good? How can you be good? Can't be true. No one can be good in this despondent world with all these dieases and suffering. Why do you want to lie to me?
Q: oh, but I am really good.
Me: You are good? You are a good liar. Tell me how did you master your art. I asked you how you are because I am concerned and I have all the time in the world to listen to your grievances. Instead, you patronise me with an answer like that. Why do you want to do that to me, to a person with such a good heart and have so much time in her hands, who all she wants to know is how you are doing really?
Q: But I am good. Really.
Me: Liar. You are persistent, aren't you?
Q: (upset) What do you want from me?
Me: I want to know how you are? (ahemm...back to chirpy voice.) How are you?
Q: (pause for a long while.) Why don't I prescribe you euthanasia?
Me: huh? mercy killing?
Q: yes, mercy killing. But in this case, it is not to end your suffering, but to end others', such as mine.
Me: Oooiii

Q wins. He always win, even in my small and imaginary world.

Just then, a SMS came in: Bring Water.

?????

I laughed.

I laughed again.

Funny. Q may want to put me to death, but I am someone else's Oasis. I do serve a purpose in life.

Wait a minute? What water? Oh dear. Tennis. Gggggrrr.........I forgot. But wait a minute. I am sick. Can't go. Sigh.....back to my scheme of making Q's life miserable. Plot! Plot! Plot!