He’s too smart for my own good

Disclaimer: The following post contains foul language. If you are offended by dirty words, please come back next week. Otherwise, enjoy.

On New Year’s Eve we usually gather at Alley’s house for food and games, and this year was no different. The only game we got to was the Quiddler. For those who haven’t heard of this game, the point is to use cards that you are dealt to create words. Each card has a letter, and a point associated with that letter, and a player gets credit for each letter used, and penalized for each letter they can’t use. The first round starts with each player getting three cards, then four, all the way up to ten cards in the final round.

In the second round I was dealt 4 cards: K, U, N and T. Players aren’t supposed to show other players their cards until the end of the round, but I couldn’t help it. I held the cards out to Jeff and asked if I could use those 4 letters for my word. Everyone had a good laugh, and I was told that I could not use them for that word, as it was misspelled.

My mother had been busy trying to make a word with her cards and didn’t see what I held up. “What was the word?” She asked. It was then that I realized that Patrick had been looking over my shoulder. “He spelled ‘cunt’” Patrick said. Sometimes I am really proud of the fact that Patrick can spell and sound out words as well as he can. Other times I wish he couldn’t spell at all…