Gustav and Elisha sat watching the Euro Cup on TV. Elisha rolled her eyes, looked over and asked, “what do you think of this?”
“I love international soccer,” replied Gustav.
“Because it gives you something to do after watching paint dry?”
Gustav scowled. “It’s a way of celebrating nationalism without war or violence.”
“You may wanna remind English soccer fans of that,” said Elisha.
“You have a point.”
“Not to mention soccer’s the only way Germany can win anything. Or France.”
“That’s cold,” said Gustav.
Elisha smiled and shrugged. “Just speakin’ the truth.”
Gustav rolled his eyes. “Just like an arrogant American.”
“I’m Canadian,” said Elisha.
“Same difference. You haven’t won the World Cup either.”
Elisha’s eyes flared. “Yeah, but if you played soccer on ice with sticks and a puck, we’d dominate.”
“If that were true, it wouldn’t be called ‘the Beautiful Game’,” said Gustav.
“Beauty is clearly in the eye of the beholder,” scoffed Elisha.
“More people love soccer than hockey,” gloated Gustav.
“What can I say? People love actors.”
“What d’ya mean?”
“C’mon. Every time a soccer player is bumped they flop around like a fresh caught fish. Hockey players lose an arm, get it stitched back on and start the third period.”
Gustav looked suspiciously at Elisha. “Is that what you think of me? A fish?”
Elisha blushed. “You’re more of a man than most soccer players.”
A smile spread across Gustav’s face. “Just checking.”