“Ugh. ” I said. Goose had just thrown himself on my bed and flung an arm over my face.
“What do you think you are doing?” I asked, flinging his arm back at him.
“Who, me? Nothing. I haven’t done anything, just minding my own business, ” he said with a smirk on his face.
“Oh, I get it. So this arm doesn’t belong to you? It’s perfectly ok for me to kinda rip it out and toss it to the ferel cats outside?”
I gave his arm a very sharp tug, making him grunt.
“Oh, that arm,” he said. “Thats mine, I have no idea how it got on your side of the bed.”
“Um hm. I don’t believe you. Funny how things like that happen only when you are around.” I told him, as I curled up alongside him, with the offending appendage under my head.
“Well,” he said. “I have to suffer the attentions of a Weirdo.”
I poked him in the belly.
“Whatever,” I said. “You are the one who usually starts things and can’t finish.”
He rolls on top of me and tells me, “I’m going to show you who starts things and who finishes.
It was a draw.