Non Sequiturs Part Deux ~ Goth Mom Strikes Back

I mentioned in a previous post that my teenaged son, Balthazar (a.k.a. The Kid) likes to throw these mind-blowing non sequiturs at me out of the blue in order to mess with my wits, such as they are. Over the years I've learned to under-react, either by pretending I didn't hear him or going along with whatever nonsense he's spewing. For example:

The Kid: Knock, Knock.
Me: Who's there?
TK: To.
Me: To, who?
TK: To whom, Mom!
Me (roll my eyes and shut my mouth)

And like that. OK, that one wasn't too bad, and a harmless bit of fun, at that. But I realize that all this time suffering from his intense assaults on my (questionable) sanity have left me punchy. Case in point -

An old high-school chum, her toddler, and I were at the local Target with The Kid to shop for his then-girlfriend's Christmas gift (though it was already late January). I was mildly annoyed that his procrastination on this task was tapping into my afternoon with my friend and quickly came to understand that Balthy hadn't given the matter too much thought beyond getting himself to a Target.

Me: So what do you plan on getting your girlie?
The Kid (with a shrug): I dunno. A scarf, I guess.
Me: A scarf, you guess?
TK: Maybe something else too.
Me: Like what?
TK: I dunno. Something feminine.
Me (with some asperity): Tampons?

I think I made my poor friend snort some of her latte up into her sinuses. (Sorry 'bout that, Dude.) But never fear - old Balthazar got me back soon after.

One Saturday afternoon he was out with some pals and didn't respond to my text asking for his whereabouts (not longitude and latitude, or anything, I just wanted a rough idea of where he was). He didn't reply so when he came home -

Me: I sent you a text, why didn't you answer?
TK: Didn't get it.
Me: Humph. Where were you?
TK: Around. (At my glare.) At the park.
Me: What were y'all doin' there?
TK: Oh, you know. The usual. Walkin' around. Exploring. Meth.

Grrr...Of course, he totally wasn't doing drugs. (I don't think.) (Please, God, let him have been yanking my chain.) I made a mental note to strike back at the earliest opportunity, and here's how that went -

I kicked Balthazar off the PC around 11pm and sent him to bed. The Kid came at me all growly and testy teen-like so I give him a big hug and kiss.

The Kid: Ah, I farted.
Me: Is that what you do when your girlfriend kisses you?
TK: Euw, that's gross.
Me: Which part; kissing your girlfriend or farting while you do it?

And that, I am thrilled to inform you, successfully shut him up. Until he farted again. 'Twas a small victory for Goth Mom but I'll take what I can get.