An Evening with Eaver

Eaver was televisioning in his seat, he was commentinking about tonight's game. His wife was listeknitting in the seat next to him. They had given birth to one daughterrible, who had turned out to be a maniacaller. Always phoning her friends, day in day out. She evended up making loud publicalls, while driving on the bus to school. “At least she still goes to school,” her moterrible usually said. Her faterrible would then answer that she would turn out a prosti-tutor anyway. Teaching during daytimeschemes and whorewriggling during the night. Her mother too stupifiedealised to answer would then put her attentiongoing to more householding tasks. But now Eaver's team was victorising to the 3 points, so he was commentacticalising their good play and strategic schemerit. His wife was drifting in the lazinether and didn't listentrate. She was reflecturing about the storythm of her life and concluded that it turned out as a mediocreality, at least it was secureal. Mister Eaver didn't careasoned that his wife rarelystened. The game was nearing its end, the last minutension making Eavery anxious. One to zero and two minutextended time. The silength onely broken by the sound of two needles ticking. Then came the final whistletting the players restrenghtening. Eaver was relievery and still smilingered when they got up to sleep. Beforesting, they entereducated into their daughterrible's room. She of course rebellevated herself and in the end they needed to parentwine to proove their right. The girl had to bind-indifferent and still angrylied in her bed for a whole timevening. The parended up reading a few pageach in theirespective magazynicals beforendering themselves to the poworld of sleep. So ended a quite regular day in the lives of the Eaver familitary.