Summertime

This summer has been a blast so far. I've been basking in the sun so long my arms developed super solar powers, enabling me to stretch them far enough to touch my house from our backyard hammock. Juice has been coming by every day, now in her “Save Saturn” phase complete with a T-shirt she had designed herself, depicting a cartoonish version of Saturn. I told her the shirt was ugly.

“Nothing compares to my magical powers from the solar rays,” I said to her one day after rejecting her suggestion of a round of potato golf. “I can change the colors of the sky and the house. Look, I even made a rosebush appear and a window by the back door vanish. I’m awesome all by myself. Who needs guys like Jiff and Smarty?” (Smarty is Juice’s equivalent to Jiff.)

“Not me,” said Juice, standing up and turning away from me. “However, I intend to go to King’s Opinion with them, let them pay for everything, and then ditch them cruelly. Have fun being uncruel to dorky guys . . . or would you like to come, Jolly?”

“Must come!” I panted. “Must be cruel to dorks!”

We've gone to King’s Opinion with those guys like twenty times this summer, and they just don't get it. Every time we went with them we ditched them, and we told them that we intended to do as much.

“They’re so stupid,” Juice laughed with me as we were visibly ditching them on one such occasion.

“We’re never going to sincerely enjoy their company.” I laughed loud enough for Jiff and Smarty to hear.

“Who’s going to pay for this floating popcorn, Smarty?” I could hear Jiff ask.

“I don’t have any money left,” Smarty said. “No wonder they keep ditching us.”

You see? I told you they don't get it!