The Games They Play

We were standing in front of the huge rolls of carpet at Menards, arguing good-naturally over the size of outdoor carpeting we needed.

“It’s 10′x12′, Master” I insisted.

“Nah.” He said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “It’s 10′x14′”

I shook my head. “Whatever you say.” And then, mumbling just loudly enough for him to hear, “But it’s 10′x12′.”

He shrugged and turned to leave. “We’ll just have to go home and measure, won’t we, cunt?”

Skipping along side him I smirked. “Wanna bet on it?” Confidentally I held out my hand for him to shake. After all, I’d been staring at the box leaning against the wall since Mother’s Day. I knew damn well we needed a 10′x12′ square of carpet. The End.

He pumped my hand twice. “10′x14′” He declared.

“What do I get if I win?” I gloated, rubbing my hands together in greed.

He grinned. “You get to lick my ass.”

Crinkling my nose, I scuffed my foot on the floor, all of the gloat seeping away. “Gee.” I said sarcastically. “What do I get if I lose?”

His grin widened. “I get to fuck your’s.”

~~*~~

Smug bastard.

Lesson Learned #1: Don’t shake on the bet before you know the terms.

Lesson Learned #2: Stop thinking you can outfox the fox.

Lesson Learned #3: Even when they lose, they win.

~cunt

PS. It was 10′x12′. Mouthwash, anyone?

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