Fictionlet

Greg paused, staring at a forkful of alfredo noodles.

“What?” said Brigid.

“Do you suppose,” Greg said slowly, thinking it through, “that when Harry Nilsson starts going wah-woh-wah-wah like one of Charlie Brown’s teachers, that’s supposed to be all the people talking at him that he can’t understand?”

Brigid plunked her fork down on the table. “For fuck’s sake, Greg,” she said. “Don’t you realize how old that song is?”

He blinked at her. “I guess so?” he said. “But you still knew which song I meant.”

She winced and closed her eyes. “I hate you,” she said.

Greg shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “Next time I’ll try to be a little more gentle on your mind.”

“SHUTUP SHUTUP SHUTUP!”

-The Gneech

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