Tutti vs The Goat

Here is a picture of Tutti, 36 years ago, on the day she met her mother-in-law for the very first time.

First impressions were good. The Goat was sweet and kind and polite and well-presented and very attractive.

Never in a million years would Tutti have imagined that only a few years later, post-marriage to The Guru, after the Goat had spilled one too many cups of tea on the couch (as she regularly waited to be waited on after Tutti’s 10-hour-days working in retail) and made one too many judgmental sharp intakes of breath every time Tutti swore (which was often, since The Guru taught her to say the f-word. “Say ‘F'”, he would encourage, laughing. “Say, ‘Uck'”) that she would be screaming every expletive she could think of in The Goat’s face, with her fairly limited expletive-vocabulary.

“Oh shit,” said Tutti, as she spilt some tea on the already tea-stained green foam couch.

 “Tsk,” tsked The Goat, judgmentally, passive-aggressively. “Disgusting language.”

Tutti had reached her limit.

“AAAAARGH!” Shrieked Tutti, doing her best impression of a Pterodactyl.  “In MY house, I will say what I want. Shit! Bum! Wee! Fuck!”

It was a slippery slope, for Tutti and The Goat.


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