“Did I wake you last night?” Chris asked me early Friday morning.
If you mean did I wake up at 12:20 am when you and the other Chris threw open the front door while talking, not with your indoor voices, with the garage door going up, then down, then up again, right before you somehow in a sloppy drunk state maneuvered the staircase, made your way to the bathroom, before walking down the hallway in the dark at which point you knocked a picture off the wall and obviously didn’t realize it because when I woke up this morning it was still there not to be outdone by the other Chris pounding on our front door because he locked his keys in his rental car while it was still running, and once indoors exclaiming what am I going to do, what am I going to do!?, to which you replied that you could help him break into it, skills I have no idea where you learned, the garage door whyen up for the fourteenth time, then you proceeded to break into his car with a coat hanger for which he thanked you profusely and loudly before you came back upstairs a few minutes later to go to sleep.
No, no, I thought to myself, I slept right through that.
