He Said She Said - Happy Fucking Mother's Day, Bitch

 

He was cooking at traditional English breakfast - scrambled eggs, bacon, baked beans...

"Can you help me and make the toast," he asked, "or I'll muck up the scrambled eggs."

"Errm..." she wavered, having just got out of bed and not particularly wanting to help, "No."

"Come on!" he said, exasperated, "It's really hard to coordinate it all!"

"OK," she sighed, capitulating.

Then... CRASH!  

While picking dry tupperware off the drainer next to the sink to put it away in the cupboard, she knocked a wine glass onto the floor, which shattered.

"Aw, honey!" he snapped, clearly annoyed!

"WHAT?" she snapped.

"Breakfast is ready to serve!"

"Well, serve it then, so it doesn't get cold!"

"Yes but - we have to deal with this, first."

"I'LL deal with it.  You serve."

Brother-in-law, visiting from the UK, looked on, bemused.

"But--" he began.

"What?" she interrupted.

"Why were you putting things away?"

"Because!" she said, offering a mature explanation.

"Why?" he sighed.

"I was trying to HELP YOU.  You ASKED me to help you!"

"Putting the tupperware away isn't helping!  All I needed was the toast!"

"I CAN'T WORK IN A MESSY KITCHEN!" she yelled.  "While I'm in here, I HAVE to clear it up!  That's how women are!  We've DISCUSSED this!"

"But--"

"Just SERVE THE BREAKFAST!  I'll clean this up!"

Silent annoyance filled the air, punctuated by the crinkle sounds of glass being swept up.  Brother-in-law took his breakfast plate without comment and retreated to the couch.

She plugged in the Dyson and violently vacuumed the remaining small bits of glass off the floor, with malice.

He came into the kitchen and hugged her.

"You didn't even notice my injury!" she whined, pointing to her bleeding foot.

"Aw, honey!" he said, hugging her harder.  

"Happy fucking Mother's Day," she pouted.

"Aw!" he said, and offered to maker her a latte.

She smiled.

For the rest of the day, she owned him.