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Getting Along Swimmingly

He and She were dining at home (She done good, as usual) …

She: “Are you finished?”

He: “I suppose.”

She: “Then may I …”

He: “Though I don’t think my family has any Northern European ancestry.”

She: “Northern European what?

He: “In fact, I’m sure it doesn’t.”

She: “Well, dear, your name does tell of soggy green islands …”

He: “No, that’s not it.”

She: “What is, then?”

He: “No gills.”

She: “No … gills …”

He: “I mean, Finland is kind of an oxymoron, isn’t it?”

She: “Who are you calling a …”

He: “But think about it a minute. Where would you find a fin land? Wouldn’t that be, like, the ocean?

She: “Babe, maybe you’d better work on getting a set of those gills. Or at least a SCUBA suit.”

He: “For why?”

She: “Because you’re getting in way deep, and you’re going to need them. I don’t suppose it would do me any good to tell you to go to …”

He: “Helsinki? Speaking of ‘way deep’.”

She: “I thought not.”


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