This comes with a price, however, especially when reacting snark-like into the dark, where unknown beasties bent on my humiliation lurk in snapping, drooling anticipation.
In my wild college days, one of my patented (if not original) catchphrases was “Your Mother”. This all-purpose retort became my quick response to nearly every situation, so much so that it’s predictability factor was near 100%. My school mates knew when the “YM” barb was coming, sometimes even before I did. This, in the etiquette that is ‘snark’, is not a positive trait…which I was to learn the hard way.
One Saturday, after a scrumptious lunch of faux steak sandwiches and air-pie (get your mind out of the gutter – it was a pre-made cardboard crust holding flavored Dream Whip mixed at ultra-high-molecular-separation speed until rendered flavorless) I headed down to JNs dorm room where I knew my peeps would be gathering. A jaunty stroll into Smith dorm and rap on JN’s door produced a response of “go away” from peep Bill from within. I opened the door with “Your Mother” spewing from my lips as the door swung.
Rendered speechless and turning a hitherto unknown shade of maroon, I beat a hasty retreat with my tail between my legs and while prying the Nike’s from between my lips vowed to drop the whole “your mother’ thing for something less dangerous.
So…to my friend Bill——-Bite Me. What are you going to do with that, huh???