Last night Peapod was sick with something like seasonal influenza, which threatened to interfere with our plans to hang out with the neighbours and have a tipple.
Since she wasn’t anywhere near Death’s door, I had the brilliant idea to leave her with Netflix, some water, and a walkie talkie. Peapod was very happy to have the place to herself (she’s a homebody who never gets to pick the shows on Netflix) and we were similarly delighted to be able to step next door.
About 20 minutes into our visit, the walkie talkie kept squelching. Curious to see if P was struggling with the correct operating procedure for a walkie talkie I keyed her up and asked if she needed anything; her response was a clear, concise, “Nope”.
But the squelching continued, so I tromped next door to investigate. I found P sitting on the chesterfield looking mildly irate. Before I could ask what was wrong, both our walkie talkies sparked to life with the voice of a young lad imploring:
“Are you out there? Hello?”
Peapod calmly lifted the walkie talkie to her lips, gently opened a channel, and said in a clear, measured voice “Shut. Up.” Then she lowered the walkie talkie.
The whole time she maintained her focus on “Be Cool, Scooby Doo”. I changed the channels on our handsets and went back to the party satisfied that P was more than capable of handling herself.
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