“I’ve always wanted to confess something to you, Bert.”
Bert gulped. “Confess what?”
Edna leaned closer and whispered, “You know how your favorite recliner always mysteriously leaned to the left for twenty years?”
Bert nodded. “Yeah, blamed the dog. Poor thing limped for weeks.”
Edna smiled. “Well, it was me. I jammed a spatula in the bottom after you spilled grape soda on my new curtains in ’89.”
Bert gasped. “You monster!”
Edna giggled. “And remember that time the remote kept changing the channel to the Hallmark channel no matter what button you pressed?”
Bert blinked. “You said it was haunted!”
Edna smirked. “Nope. I glued a penny inside the battery compartment to short-circuit it. You never missed a single Christmas romance movie for five straight years.”
Bert’s mouth dropped open. “Why would you do that?!”
Edna sipped her tea, serene. “Because payback, dear, is best served with mistletoe and slow-motion snowball fights.”
After a long pause, Bert leaned back in the swing and said, “You know what, Edna? I’ve got a confession too.”
Bert’s Turn
Edna tilted her head. “Oh, this should be good. Go ahead, old man. Shock me.”
