Austin assumed the position, standing upright, his arms spread open. He was off to meet his brother for a beer fest. The spread arms meant he expected me to stand up and hug him. While I’m in the middle of reading Scumbag Villain for the hundredth time.
Me, grunting: Fine.
We hug. While embracing.
Austin: Fine. If I die in a car accident on my way to Dankhouse (the brewery he & his brother like), you’ll have the comfort of knowing that reading a book you’ve already read was more important.
Me: Don’t say things like that.
Austin hugged me tighter.
Me: I’ve spent too long planning the perfect murder for you to die accidentally in a car crash.
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