“This is the worst shit I’ve ever read,” JB said as he waved a thin book over his head. “Who wrote this?”
“The author’s name is on the front,” replied his wife. She scarcely looked up from the trigger assembly she was polishing.
“Listen to this drivel, Sheila,” JB said. He opened the book to a random page. “The train rolled into the night as he sat and sipped at his tea. He loosened his tie while watching television and thinking about the tiger he was to capture.”
“Sounds like a busy man,” she said.
“Sounds like an eight-year-old wrote a homework assignment.”
He stomped his way into the kitchen, muttering mockingly as he went.
“Ooh, look at me. I wear ties and hunt tigers. I should drink tea!”
He pulled a box of tea from the cabinet and waved it as he had with the book. “Oh, yay, I have tea now! I can hunt tigers on television if I put on a tie and ride the night train.”
“Hey! They got it wrong!” he called to Sheila. “It wasn’t the train rolling into the night, the author was drinking Night Train! Cheap-ass wine will tie your brain to a jackhammer.”
“What’s all the noise?” asked his daughter, poking her head around the corner of the kitchen door. “I’m trying to watch television.”
JB pointed toward the family room. “If there are tigers on that show – “
She jerked her head back in the face of his vehemence. “What? No. No tigers. I’m watching The Midnight Meat Train. Tell you what: you make some of that tea and I’ll go pause the movie. You can come watch with me.”
Elements: tea, tiger, night, train, television, tie
Yeah, I exaggerated this one. It was fun, though.