Over the phone:
Father: Son, how do you fair?
Me: I'm doing arithmetics in my room.
Father: Is it clean, has Ana cleaned it?
Me: Yes father.
Father: Don't be late for dinner, we have matters to discuss
Me: Of course sir.
-call ends-
Reality: My room is worse than a sty with dirty clothing everywhere, I'm lying in bed doodling, and Ana is banging on my door yelling at me to let her clean my quarters.
Hahaha, no.
YOU ARE READING
Terrifyingly strange thoughts of the cool type
RandomBrought to you by the one host you thought wouldn't give you a brain aneurism.
