Living With Barry

by Simon von Wolkenstein

I’d been living with Barry on the houseboat for a couple of weeks when it occurred to me one day that maybe I was a hostage.

“Barry,” I said, “Am I allowed off this boat to visit my family for Christmas?”

“Nope,” he replied.

“Why?” I asked hoping for enlightenment.

“Because you’re my hostage.”

“And I’m your hostage because... ” I paused waiting for Barry to answer.

Finally, after a what seemed like forever he said, “Look, I’m sorry, I’m a bit snowed under with work at the moment. Can we talk about this later.”

“Sure,” I said.

But he never mentioned it again and I never brought it up again. Barry’s like that.