Toothpaste

I give to you a story in eleventy-on words...

‘Stella!’

‘Huh?’

‘Stella, c’mere!’

‘I’m downstairs. Whaddya want?’

‘C’mere!’

She climbs the stairs slowly.

Her husband waits at the apex holding a tube of toothpaste in his hands. ‘Why don’t you squeeze from the bottom?’ He moves his hands to demonstrate.

‘Really, George?? You interrupted me for a tube of toothpaste?’

‘I been telling you for thirty years.’

‘So.’

‘Well, you obviously ain’t listening.’

‘Obviously.’

‘It’s real simple, Stella. All ya gotta do is work from this end,’ he points to the flat end of the tube.

‘I’m going back downstairs.’

‘You gonna listen to me this time, Stella?’

‘No, George, I ain’t.’ She turns and ventures back to the laundry.