Calvin_DrippyWhore

I didn’t feel like cooking tonight, so we went out for dinner. T wanted tacos, but I wanted a Bloody Mary, so I told him we’d swing by our favorite taco place later this week if he’d be a good sport and eat a hot dog tonight instead. He agreed, and we headed to one of our favorite Sunday dive bars.

T doesn’t get any screen time when he’s with me, so he has to entertain himself with books when we go out. Tonight’s pick was Captain Underpants—which isn’t my favorite, but he’s been reading a lot of really good stuff in general, so I figured it would be a nice, mindless treat. He was explaining some of the exploits of the characters to our server and generally enjoying the chance to read something more lighthearted.

In the car on the way home, he was describing the cover of his book to us and reading the captions aloud. I’ll be honest, when he starts talking incessantly like that, I don’t always listen. But at one point he announced that the cover of his other Captain Underpants book had a caption that read, “A drippy whore.”

Since I wasn’t really paying attention, I had to ask him to repeat himself. He was more than happy to say it again, and the second time he added even more emphasis to his words: “My other book cover. You know? It says the story is a drippy whore.”

“One more time, buddy?”

“Amy, it’s a drippy whore! A drippy whore, because, you know, Captain Underpants is having a big, bad battle against the Bionic Booger Boy.”

Insert a long pause as Brian is dying of laughter in the driver’s seat.

And then it finally clicked.

“Oh! Buddy. You’re saying horror. It’s a drippy horror. Because of boogers. Boogers are drippy. And he’s fighting the Booger Boy. Which makes it a drippy horror.”

“Yeah, Amy—like I said. The other Captain Underpants book is really just a drippy whore.”

Unfortunately, my maturity level isn’t really capable of rising to such occasions, so T has been chanting, “Drrrrippppppyyyy wwwhooooore!” for the last 20 minutes, and I don’t really know how to correct his pronunciation because I can’t keep a straight face. All he knows is that it makes me giggle, so I assume he’ll keep saying it for a while. Let’s just hope it doesn’t carry over into the school day tomorrow.

2 thoughts on “A Drippy Whore

  1. To be clear, I was not the only one dying of laughter. It just happens that Amy is better at composing herself enough to generate understandable language while laughing so hard.

    (I think my stomach muscles are still recovering.)

    Like

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