“I’m going to tell your poor mother her daughter is a pirate!” was the first thing my snotty goody-two-shoes ex-neighbour told me when I showed up on her doorstep with a bag of gold.
I looked at my gold. “You don’t want this?” I asked her, and then theatrically shrugged. “Alright, I’m sure I can find someone else who’ll take a free bag of—”
She snatched it out of my hand, made a frustrated noise at me, and then stormed back inside her house and slammed the door right in my face.
I stood there for a moment with my nose to the wood and my eyebrows in my hairline. Hmm.