Weston has a tendency to blame all kinds of things on an invention he has named "It-The-Ghost." Anytime he says something rude or just plain strange, he scapegoats (scapeghosts?) his imaginary pal.
Weston: Do you have froth on your tongue?
Me: Do I have--no. I do not have froth on my tongue. What a question!
Weston, chortling: It-The-Ghost told me to ask that question.
Me: That It-The-Ghost is a wild character, isn't he?
W: Yes. And silly, too.
Me: Of course: silly, too.
W: You know who else is both wild and silly?
Me: You?
W, a bit offended: No, of course. Luke-The-Ghost, in fact.
Me: Ah, yes, that old Luke-the-Ghost.
W: And Mama-Ghost and Dada-Ghost and the new Ghost-baby.
Me: So there's a new Ghost-baby, is there?
W: Actually, two. No, three new ghost babies.
Me: Those ghosts certainly have their hands full, don't they?
W: Full of babies. And tape also.
Me: Why tape?
W: They live in our tape dispensers. That's why they need so many babies. We have a lot of tape dispensers, you know.
(We do have a lot of tape dispensers, all of which are out of tape, so what good is that?)
((I find the above conversation infinitely more satisfying when read out loud in a British accent, or as close to one as you can manage. Then again, I find most things more satisfying that way. I had kept this preference hidden from McMoose for nearly a decade because while there are many offenses that can be forgiven in a person--hogging the blankets, ordering veggie burgers with bacon on top, wanting to name one's children after cities in Wisconsin, that kind of thing--I'm not entirely sure reading aloud in a foreign accent is something from which a marriage ever fully recovers. Of course, he walked into the bedroom unexpectedly one recent evening and found me reading a book about punctuation out loud to myself and my last secret suffered an instant death. I am now an open book. An open audiobook, perhaps.))
(((I do love an interesting book about punctuation. No, that isn't an oxymoron at all--why do you ask?)))
Weston: Do you have froth on your tongue?
Me: Do I have--no. I do not have froth on my tongue. What a question!
Weston, chortling: It-The-Ghost told me to ask that question.
Me: That It-The-Ghost is a wild character, isn't he?
W: Yes. And silly, too.
Me: Of course: silly, too.
W: You know who else is both wild and silly?
Me: You?
W, a bit offended: No, of course. Luke-The-Ghost, in fact.
Me: Ah, yes, that old Luke-the-Ghost.
W: And Mama-Ghost and Dada-Ghost and the new Ghost-baby.
Me: So there's a new Ghost-baby, is there?
W: Actually, two. No, three new ghost babies.
Me: Those ghosts certainly have their hands full, don't they?
W: Full of babies. And tape also.
Me: Why tape?
W: They live in our tape dispensers. That's why they need so many babies. We have a lot of tape dispensers, you know.
(We do have a lot of tape dispensers, all of which are out of tape, so what good is that?)
((I find the above conversation infinitely more satisfying when read out loud in a British accent, or as close to one as you can manage. Then again, I find most things more satisfying that way. I had kept this preference hidden from McMoose for nearly a decade because while there are many offenses that can be forgiven in a person--hogging the blankets, ordering veggie burgers with bacon on top, wanting to name one's children after cities in Wisconsin, that kind of thing--I'm not entirely sure reading aloud in a foreign accent is something from which a marriage ever fully recovers. Of course, he walked into the bedroom unexpectedly one recent evening and found me reading a book about punctuation out loud to myself and my last secret suffered an instant death. I am now an open book. An open audiobook, perhaps.))
(((I do love an interesting book about punctuation. No, that isn't an oxymoron at all--why do you ask?)))
1 comment:
My adoration for you has never waned. Not ever.
Post a Comment