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You guys are going to testify in my behalf at the trial, right? I mean, y'all know I'm harmless, if a little eccentric. Patty, on the other hand, is mean, nasty-tempered, unforgiving, and humorless to a fault, right? Just so we keep our stories straight. We don't want any defections (defecations?) or breaking of ranks.
What brought all this on is my shopping trip last night with Patty (Potty Mouth, Tanglefoot, etc. You know who I'm talking about here). She has decided we need new silverware (Why the heck do they still call it silverware, when it's been stainless steel for the past thirty years? Ah, well, old habits die hard.) despite my protests to the contrary. The whole thing had put me in a disagreeable mood, and that chirpy teenage clerk wasn't helping any. I mean, how can somebody of anywhere near normal intelligence be that cheerful at 9 PM?
But she had asked if she could help and was standing there expectantly, fidgeting with impatience, just waiting for me to show my ignorance so she could show off her newly-acquired Nancy Drew Girl Sales Person expertise. I decided there was no point in making it easy for her.
Scornfully I waved a hand at the display and said, "These are all very pretty, but my wife doesn't like the forks." Patty turned two beady orbs on me, daring me to continue. "These all have pointy things sticking out the end. She wants some that are solid in the middle and round on the end, no points."
The poor thing bit; "You mean like those? Those are spoons!" Her voice rose and quavered just a little at the end. She had a whole book full of stock replies for stock questions, but I hadn't read the book.
I turned to Patty and said, "I told you those were called spoons, but, noooooo. . ." That was as far as I got before Patty whomped me up side the head and told me to knock it off. I knocked it off.
Isn't love grand?
Editor's note:
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