Page 18 of Revenge Brunch and Other Disasters

Or end. Badly. With montages of misunderstanding and crying in Ikea.

Darcy:

How do you fix this?

Rhys:

I DON’T KNOW

I thought maybe today I’d clarify right then, but then she was just…

looking like war and brunch and eyeliner vengeance, and then she called it arevenge dateand slapped me with a spoon and I...

Liv:

areinto her.

Darcy:

Oh, he’ssogone.

Rhys:

I need a script.

I need backup.

I need someone to tell me how to undo this without sounding like

“Hey I’m not gay I’m just emotionally stunted and you’re hot, brunch?”

Darcy:

Honestly?

That but with pie.

Liv:

And maybe a puppy.

Darcy:

No,you already have the dog.That’s what got you into this.

Rhys:

Stumps is not the problem. Stumps is the glue holding this entire emotional sitcom together.

Sir Stumps-a-Lot sneezed pointedly from the couch like he knew damn well he’d brokered this mess and now expected payment in bacon and emotional clarity.

Rhys sighed and flopped backward into his pillows.

Rhys:

I like her.

I like herso muchit makes my brain short-circuit.

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