house

hatboy and i live in a house which doubles as both a place within which we engage ourselves in a battle of wits over control of the remote, and as a secret base of operations from where we pursue all manner of evil villains and force them into understanding that violence is not the answer to their own twisted childhood experiences.

sometimes we even make smoothies here.

ninjagirl lives here, too. we call her a squatter. she calls herself a roomie.

hatboy thinks that’s just terrific, especially seeing as how she always cooks batches of tasty ramen goodness.

he says being a super-sidekick can have its advantages, like super-sidekick groupies such as ninjagirl.

ninjagirl says being a super-sidekick groupie might have its advantages, too. that is, if she were a said super-sidekick groupie.

hatboy shifts uncomfortably on our sofa and enquires, reasonably, as to the nature of these advantages.

ninjagirl ponders her answer for some time.

“well,” she says. “for one; groupies would often disembowel sidekicks simply for being referred to as something so sleazoid as groupies. i’d call that an advantage.”

hatboy offers her some popcorn.

he says he’s glad we don’t have any groupies.

he says he’s much more considerate to the female of the species.

he says he’s considering going to feminist reprogramming sessions.

he says he’s even thought of buying a dress.

i tell him he’s already got one.

he says kilts don’t count.

i tell him i think they do.

ninjagirl tells us both to button our lips and put macgyver back on.