Every now and again (at least once a year), I try and make a concise effort to demonstrate affection towards my ole Born-Again Borelli.

This morning, as the alarm went off to NPR, a calming radio commentator voice thoughtfully asked the question,

“Who is the most important person in your life?”

Sweeeeeeet…..perfect opportunity to plug my annual effort to demonstrate affection…just fell in my lap..what unprecedented serendipity..

I ever-so-slowly and lovingly placed my hand on Sean’s shoulder–batting my eyes to add (just a pinch of) sultry to the performance. He beamed back a very approving smile of positive affirmation and reciprocity.

It was real Precious Moments’ shit….then…the radio commentator voice interrupts,

“Well, one day they will die…and death is not discussed openly enough in this culture.”

errrrrr….uggghhhh….FAIL….okay,  play it cool, Marebear…don’t look him straight in the eye, you wicked little she-devil…damn, too late…

Sean’s eyes WIDENED FREAKISHLY and he instantaneously swatted my hand off his shoulder, decrying I put some witchcraft–omen–curse–touch of death on him..and that I did it (allegedly) on purpose.

well I never…the nerve…ungrateful, sheepish boy…here I am trying to show a little appreciation…how was I supposed to know the Good Lord had chosen little-ole-me to be his stunning-sexy-sweet-cherub-like messenger of doom?

Well, it was time to make the most of an (admittedly) questionable situation…

I proffered a sinister laugh, and y’know, just decided to play along into Sean’s fears that maybe I did know what was coming. I (coyly) asked Seanie-boi if he wanted to talk about it and share his fears. I figured I might as well transmute this (gross) miscalculation into a little calculated control capital to cash up at some later date in time.

Moral of the story, my friends? Leave the effort to demonstrate affection to push-overs and saints. When you love the shit out of someone for being just the way they are, don’t tell them (in fact, keep it top-secret, bottle it up and bury it deep down and way back in the recesses of your mind). Make them think you are in it for the money…or the drugs…or some compelling combination of both.


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