A Conversation I Have A Few Times A Year With My Sister

B: You know how I have issues. . .

A: Oh my gosh yes.

B:. . . about rapists?

A: Oh yeah, that too. (she didn't really say rapists, but I don't want to divulge her issues all out in the open and I figure rapists is a good substitute. Everyone can have an issue with a rapist.)

B: Wait, what?

A: Nothing. Tell me about rape.

B: You were just agreeing wildly that I have issues? In general?

A: As a joke.

B: Very funny Mrs. OCD Touches Her Knuckles Every Time She Has A Bad Thought And Can't Find Wood To Knock On.

A: I do not do that.

B: The other day when we were driving in the car you all of a sudden started fake cracking your knuckles. And I know you hate cracking your knuckles, so what you were really doing was some sort of weird prayer-knock-on-wood-crazy combo because I'm assuming your mind drifted off to something sad.

A: Whatever.

B: What were you thinking?

A: Nothing! I didn't do that!

B: Amy. . .

A: I was thinking about my kid getting kidnapped.

B: See. . . what?

A: And then buried in the woods.

B: You don't have a kid.

A: Not yet.

B: . . .

A: . . .

B: Are you knocking on wood again?

A: What, you think I should just let them get kidnapped and buried in the woods???

B: Knocking on wood doesn't actually stop things you know that ri- ALSO you don't have a kid!

A: You'll thank me later when I do the same thing for your kids.

B: *sigh*

A: You're welcome.

B: You're crazy pants.