Bag of Beans

“Barb, c’mon. It’s a beautiful day. Let’s head up to the hills and take a hike.”

“Last time we got lost.”

“We weren’t lost. Saying we were lost is a real stretch. We’re here at home, aren’t we? Clear proof we weren’t lost.”

“You and your stupid short cuts. Through acres of dried cow paddies. No. I’m not buying into your ‘rugged individualist’ meta-identity, Trevor. I’m going with Angela. We’re getting mani-pedis.”

Trevor shrugged. He went to the kitchen to make some coffee, but when he got there, he found no coffee. “Sweet cheeks, didn’t we just buy coffee?” he called down the hallway.

“I threw it out.”

“Are you out of your mind? Coffee doesn’t grow on trees! Well, actually it does, but it isn’t free. Why on earth would you throw out five pounds of freshly solar-roasted Colombian coffee?”

“It’s not good for us. I read an article. Drinking a lot of coffee causes digestive problems.”

“Key words there, babe, ‘A lot’. In reality — which you seldom visit — plenty of very reputable studies show that coffee can protect us against Parkinson’s disease, type 2 diabetes and liver disease, including liver cancer AND it appears to improve cognitive function and decrease the risk of depression. You’re just wrong, plus that was $50.”

“I know I’m wrong all the time, but you should listen me.”

“OK, so that’s a blatant contradiction. If you’re wrong all the time, I should absolutely NOT listen to you.”

Barb heard the front door slam. About half an hour later she heard it open again. Trevor soon stood in the bedroom doorway with a small bag of coffee. “Do I have to lock this up or are you going to leave it alone?”

“I hate you.” Barb began to cry.

“Oh Baby, don’t cry.”

“We fight all the time. We don’t like the same things. We don’t agree on anything. Why are we married, especially now that we’re pregnant?”

“Holy fuck, we’re pregnant?”

“I found out yesterday. She reached under her pillow and pulled out the little plastic and paper evidence. Trevor tried not to wince at the fact that Barb had been sleeping with her head over dried urine and, well, he had too.

“Oh, darling!” he wrapped his arms around her, cradled her head on his shoulder, kissed the top of her head, told her he loved her. They forgot all about the fact that they were fundamentally incompatible and each in their private heart, resolved to live happily ever after.

7 thoughts on “Bag of Beans

  1. That’s life. I have digestive problems with cafe, no matter where it comes from, so I just leave it and we are compeltely incompatible, but it has survived for 50 years. Perhaps it is that what adds spice to life. Otherwise it would be boring.

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