“What? Why? What’s going on?” Her mother raced around the corner into the kitchen, almost careening into Jason, who complained about lack of respect for the chef.
Dad wandered in, a little calmer than mom, who always panicked right away. Why wait, when you can panic? He straightened his tie, “what’s going on? What’s this about cats?”
“Rats, dad. Mimi says we have rats in the house.”
“I didn’t say we had them in the house, I said in the compost.”
Susy considered this, “you mean just in the kitchen?”
“No Susy, in the compost. The comm-posstt.” Stretching and emphasizing each syllable to make herself heard and hopefully to convey the intense irritation that her little sister subjected her to. “That large black bin we drop our banana peels and mom and dad’s coffee grounds into… the one you pull all the snails off in the summer? Know what I mean?”
Susy brightened, “oh, you mean my worm farm!”
Yech. That’s all I can say about little sisters, thought Mimi, mercifully remembering to keep her thoughts to herself. Mom never appreciated Mimi’s helpful suggestions about what to do about Susy.
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