"Well of course I am!" said Uncle Bob. "If you think I'm paying $50 a night for some motel, you're crazy!"
"You know I have a roommate, right?" said Greg. "It's not like I can just announce to her, 'Oh by the way, my uncle is sleeping on the couch...'"
"Sleeping on the couch? What kind of hospitality is that?"
Greg narrowed his eyes. "Really, Uncle Bob. You can't just show up on my doorstep without so much as a phone call and--"
"I knew I could count on you," said Bob, dropping what appeared to be a duffel bag filled with dirty laundry. "And anyway, you can be assured, that I'd do the same for you, anytime. Any time!" He headed for the door, presumably to get another bag.
"I don't want you to do the same for me!" Greg objected, following him out the door. "Besides the fact that your place is a ramshackle that makes me feel like I need a shower after I've stepped foot in it, I have a little thing called 'manners' that makes the idea of thrusting my presence on other people an abhorrent notion."
"Nonsense, boy, I wouldn't mind a bit! We're family! You can depend on me."
"That is so not the point."
"Well then, what is?"
Greg stopped, put his hand over his eyes, and sighed. Then he said, "Have I mentioned that I have a roommate?"
"I'm sure that I'll like her just fine," said Bob, already going down the stairs.
Greg shook his head in sheer wonder. "Is there anything you can't twist into being all about you?"
Bob looked back at him, confused. "You mean there are things that aren't?"
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