There’s Something I’m Not Telling You Here, and You Should Figure That Out From My Eyebr
You’re standing across from me, and she’s standing next to you, and even though you keep asking me that same question at the same decible level, I’m not going to answer it while she’s here.
I am raising and lowering my eyebrows. I and wish you’d see the signal.
You are trying to allude to the question you’d like the answer to, using metaphors like, “Do you have any thoughts on that dog you found in the rain?” There are two problems with this line of questioning. For one, we are not anywhere near any rain. And secondly, you are not good at metaphors.
And so I raise and lower my eyebrows as if to say, “Look who’s standing next to you. Don’t you realize she can hear you? Don’t you think she knows you’re asking me about her in a not-so-secret way? Don’t you think you may want to stop this line of questioning until she’s no longer here?”
You wonder aloud if there’s a home for said dog that was found in the rain. Is there any owner who would even want to care for said dog. Then you change your line of questioning and ask me if I ever saw the movie Carrie where an outcast of a girl is tortured and made fun of at a high school dance…
My eyebrow hair goes up. My eyebrow hair goes down. There’s a moment where my eyes bug out of my head and then go back in. I clear my throat and I kick your foot.
You flip your hair in what’s-her-name’s face. You turn your back in such a rude way that she moves around the other side to not be left out of the conversation that you want her to think has nothing to do with her but really, quite honestly, has everything to do with her.
My eyebrows are tired. Wrinkles are forming. I’m going to need botox soon.