Overheard

So Saturday afternoon I'm in the dining room, ironing clothes (one of my favorite past times), when both my boys meander in. The 13 year old, Good Ball, first, wanting to sketch a picture of Hello Kitty for a friend at school:

Then the 16 year old, Oatmeal Head, just kickin' back:

Oatmeal Head volunteered to draw the picture for Goof Ball's friend. The two of them got into the work. It went something like this:

Goof Ball (GB): Where's her neck? Why doesn't she have a neck?

Oatmeal Head (OH): Hello Kitty doesn't have a neck.

GB: What's that? What are you doing to her arm?

OH: That's a wound. You wanted a war torn Hello Kitty - she has a wound. That's a bandage.

GB: Oh. Wait - what are those?

OH: Sleeves. Her sleeves are torn.

GB: But I want it to look like Rambo. Rambo doesn't wear a shirt.

OH: Hello Kitty is a girl. She has to have a shirt.

GB: Oh. Wait. If she's a girl ...

Moms steps in: Do NOT give Hello Kitty boobs.

OH: Not big boobs, Mom. Just the suggestion of them.

Mom: No Angelina Jolie boobs is all I'm sayin'.

OH: FINE.

And here's the Kitty that came about:

Then they played with the background. And Goof Ball started smudging pencil. And giving himself a mustache. It might be as much mustache as he ever gets, poor kid. Here are the final results:

Boys.

Until I write again ...

Flea