How Rumors Get Started

I live in a 4-apartment house with 3 couples (all over the age of 50, some over 70) and a single girl named Harry. We all share one big living room, where we all hang out together nearly all the time. We're becoming known around campus as "the happening place to be." (I think because we eat ice cream and pie every single night...)

One of the husbands of the couples is named after a president, and so I call him Mr. Prez. Mr. Prez is notorious for being super friendly with anyone and everyone. SUPER friendly. Well, this week, Harry and I have been house-sitting for some friends in the city, and they happen to have a dog...with the same exact name as Mr. Prez.

A few nights ago, (the dog) Mr. Prez tore up a bunch of stuff in his parents room. Harry and I agreed it would be better to have (the dog) Mr. Prez sleep in my room with me so that he won't get lonely and therefore misbehave. (Are you beginning to see where I'm going with this?)

Well, I'm standing at the front desk at work yesterday, and Harry asked me how Mr. Prez did last night. I responded, "He did pretty well. Sometimes, he'd get up and come and stand by my bed. I'd roll over and say to him, 'Mr. Prez, go back to your bed. No, sir, go to your bed. That's a good boy.' And then I'd roll over and go back to sleep."

Harry noticed that our secretary's eyes had nearly popped out of her head. "B, you do know we're talking about the DOG Mr. Prez and not the person Mr. Prez, right?" B, who didn't know we are house-sitting, gasped in relief and nearly shouted, "Oh thank goodness! I was beginning to wonder what in the world was going ON in that house of yall's!"

Mr. Prez (the person) and his wife nearly fell out of their chairs they were laughing so hard when they heard this. I promise...I was talking about the DOG.