Karen sighed, walking into the house with a package under her arm. Her husband Lucas looked up from the tool he was repairing, watching her as she set it on the table. "What is it?"
"More food from my dad," she sighed again, unwrapping it. It was a box with a bottle of wine, and an invitation asking if they would come over for dinner for meatloaf.
"So, what's wrong?" Lucas asked, sitting up on the bed and swinging his legs over the side. Karen found it strange he was being so attentive, but didn't ask him why. "Well… I mean, I know I could cut back on the alcohol myself, and I think a drink or two is the perfect way to unwind… But lately dad's just so constantly drunk. It's annoying just to be around him. I can't stand it."
Lucas was now tugging on his boots tightly, and with an uninterested tone of voice, asked, "Have you told him that?"
Karen sat on the carpet on the floor, leaning her arms on the table. "Well, I could… but he wouldn't get it. He would just get angry. I think what I should just do is take the meatloaf and ignore him."
"You know what you're doing? You do know what you're doing, right?"
"What am I doing," she asked, looking over at him.
"You're selling your soul for meatloaf," he answered, pointing at Karen for emphasis.
"So…" she leaned back on her hands, "you think I should tell him?"
"Yeah, of course!" he said, making a fist, but then he dropped it and paused. "But not tonight, I feel like meatloaf."
There. This was based off an actual conversation. I wrote this because my mom bugged me to. I didn't really think it was that funny. I own nothing because of that fact.