I Think the Hat Belongs to Me

We have a game in our family
That many other families
Probably already play,
We ask someone a question,
The answer is, “Mine.”
If they answer, “Mine,”
It’s ten push-ups, no matter where you are.

There is nothing quite like
Realizing that you have been gotten.
It comes at the worst time and every fiber of muscle tenses
Because the push-ups are coming,
In a coffee shop,
In the dining room at dinner, or for me today
At Wawa, the busiest convenience store around,
Especially during rush hour.

The question was simple,
“Whose hat is this?”

The answer was quick,


Without hesitation, I parked the truck,
Got onto the sidewalk,
Slow playing it so my old boss could walk by, and
Then starting banging out some push-ups.
When I was done, I felt no malice at having been gotten,
Just the satisfaction that we are playful,
Although, revenge quickly entered my mind.
When the dinner conversation turned the size of our pitbull’s eyes,
I asked, “Who’s eyes are bigger?”

“I guess mine,” said my earlier instigator.

Ten push-ups later we had desert.

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