Last night, I noticed a big black loping beetle scurrying up the middle of our living room towards the front door. I'd not seen him before in the house (or any other like him) and I called out to Steve, "There's a lost beetle in the house!" as if he'd be able to help the beetle out with directions or something.
He: And?
Me: Well, he needs help.
He: Should I put him out, is that what you're asking me to do?
Me: Well yes, but... he came from over there so maybe his family is waiting on that side of the house. But then... there's no door there so maybe you should put him out the front door.
He: Lenny. It's a beetle. *wanders off*
The beetle was then left to its own devices and headed itself towards our front door. Moments later, it came scurrying back the way it had come.
Me: *calling out to Steve* He's back!
He: *uncaring and snootily* He's lost.
Me: He's carrying string! *stepping on the cotton the beetle was trailing behind him and freeing it from his leg*
He: Oh GOOD one! Now that poor bastard's going to get home and his wife is going to scream at him *scratchy shitty PMS high pitched beetle voice* "Did you get my string??" And he's going to go *lopey dopey voice* "Yuhhh, it's right.... HEY!" Good one. Nice way to get him in trouble.
I think this says more about me than it does Steve. Or the beetle.
