"What will you do while you're in Scotland?" Felix changes the subject. Is it possible our incredibly caring, space holding captain is also getting annoyed with Bryson’s obsession with his soon-to-be fiance Jo Hamilton? With the proposal coming up we still have to give him the attention he’s demanding but it’s starting to wear on me.
"Granny Franny always has a few house projects she saves up for us to work on. And I'll get in some golf. Usually I don't go until July so I'm expecting the weather to be colder and drearier in May."
"Pack layers." Felix advises.
"Yes Daddy." I mock with fluttering eyelashes.
French Fry’s elevens appear between his brows, looking like, well a couple of fries. I doubt I’d get away with calling him Eleven when his number on the team is 44. Nor do I think he’d take kindly to being referred to as old. Even if he’s starting to grey at the temples.
The next two rounds are uneventful as we drop cards into the pile.
I’m down to three cards and one of them is a Wild Willy and I want to save that one for last.
Aiden plays a reverse in yellow, sending the game back in my direction. E.T. drops a yellow seven, and my eyes widen as I thumb the cards in my hand.
I might have a chance for a big one here.
All I need is for Felix to drop a yellow eight and I get to play out my favorite BrUNO rule.
The Seven Ate Nine.
Felix takes his sweet fucking time looking at his cards and I am twitching with excitement.
Slowly, painfully, he slides a card from his hand and lowers it to the pile.
Sweet mother of Davey Jones.
I slap my yellow nine on top of his yellow eight and cackle while the rest of the guys groan and roll their eyes.
"You just had to French Fry, you just had to give him an eight." E.T. grumbles.
"That's right boys, saddle up," I say rubbing my hands together excitedly. "I just played a nine and that means," pause for effect "it’s Dad Joke time."
"How do you always manage to get this sequence?" Bryson huffs.
"I want to know how he knows all these lame jokes." Aiden says as he straightens his hand.
"They'renotlame jokes." I defend the honor of my treasured puns. "They're Dad Jokes. Actually, I’ve got one." I clear my throat. "When does a joke become a Dad Joke?" I ask.
Brows furrow, heads shake, E.T. looks like he's trying to calculate an answer.
"Give up?" They all shrug and nod. "When it becomes... apparent!"
"Cheese and crackers." Aiden grumbles.
I dodge a throw pillow that is launched my way as I cackle.
"Pick up cards boys! No one knew that one!"
The satisfaction I feel watching my teammates pick up UNO cards to add to their hand after successfully delivering a dad joke rivals that of having a great play in a game.
Dad Jokes, Talk Like A Pirate Day, Yes Day, they were all elements of my joyfilled childhood and if anything, becoming an adult has taught me to be grateful for it.
I'd rather laugh my way through life than get bogged down with serious, heavy feelings.
Life's too short to be taken seriously.
Chapter two
