Making lesbians happy – one book at a time

I Just Got Played

This is the screenplay version of an evening in the life of Layce and Saxon.


It’s a seventy-degree day in February because there is no climate change. Skateboarders in shorts WHIZZ up and down the residential street in front of their two-story home.


Layce and Saxon sit in matching recliners, tandem reading on Kindles. Saxon looks up.


Have you gotten me a Valentine’s Day present yet?


I refuse to answer that because you will trick me into

telling you what the present is. If I had one.


Since you haven’t gotten me a present yet, I want a cappuccino

maker. There’s a sale on Amazon where you can get a really

nice one for under one hundred dollars.


How much exactly is under one hundred?


It’s ninety-nine dollars.


My vote is no on the cappuccino maker. We already have a

perfectly nice Mr. Coffee.

Layce continues reading while Saxon only pretends to read. Two minutes pass.


Then in that case, I want an English Bulldog for my

Valentine’s Day present.




You answered that really quick.


That’s because I knew the answer.


My whole life I’ve wanted an English Bulldog. Why won’t you

let me realize my life’s goal?


Because of the poop factor.


What poop factor? I’ve never heard of a poop factor.


My entire adult life has centered around poop. My poop. My daughter’s

poop. The poop of pets. I hate poop. Even my own poop.  I changed

Emma’s diapers for two years. Two very dark, very poopy years.

As soon as that was blessedly over, I had  three old dogs who became

incontinent. You  remember waking up every  day and cleaning up

the dog poop that they could no longer hold in until they got let outside.

It was a mess. It was like a horror movie. That lasted

three years. Three years where I was up to my ankles in poop. Then they

went over the rainbow bridge and I was relieved of poop duty. For two

months. Then along came Tux the cat and we took him in. Now he poops

in a box and not on the floor, but I still have to clean it up. Once again, I

am cleaning up poop. Some days I wake up and wonder if this is my

mission in life. Am I just a pooper scooper? Is that all I am? Will that

be written on my headstone? With my luck we will live to ninety-nine

and I’ll still have control of my bowels, but you won’t. I’ll have to

change your diapers. So I have that to look forward to. I have to vote

no on the English Bulldog. I don’t want to clean up anymore poop, thank

you very much.


Cappuccino makers don’t poop.


Fine. Order the damn cappuccino maker. Just don’t ever bring home

another dog. Or pet. Nothing that poops.

Silence. A slow smile creeps across Saxon’s face as she “reads.” Layce over at Saxon and squints one eye.


I think I just got played.



I have no idea what you mean.


You didn’t even want  a dog. You just wanted to trick me

into a cappuccino maker.


(Ignoring Layce’s last remark)

For fifty dollars more, we can get a double-cappucino maker.


                                                We can’t afford it.


Or a French Bulldog. I want one of those. They have

these cute little pointed ears and —


Fine. Get the double cappuccino maker.

And they lived happily ever after.

The End

Check out our new book! Saxon and I think it’s our best book ever.


Click here to buy or read for FREE!


Comments on: "I Just Got Played" (3)

  1. Charlotte Demescko said:

    Heheh! She is good! 😊

  2. That was awesome! Thanks for the tip on how to handle my wife. Since we have 5 cats already, I will suggest we get another cat whenever I want something!

  3. […] told Layce that I wanted an English bull dog. (see her blog “I Just Got Played” for full explanation.) I got a cappuccino machine instead . It was my Valentine’s present. […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: