Rockin’ Sockin’ Dinner

He: “You did good with the main course tonight, love, I don’t understand why you’re putting Tabasco sauce in it.”

She: “It’s missing something. I wanted a bolder flavor.”

He: “Really? I don’t think one of those will fit in the pot, never mind your bowl. There’s a hammer and chisel in the garage, if that will help …”

She: “It’s beef stew, not stone soup!

He: “Oh, ok. Just as well. Sandstone would be a little gritty, granite a bit flinty, and the basalt would need pepper. Anyway, thanks for dinner … Oh good grief!”

She: “What now?

He: “This sack of wild bird food you’ve got by the kitchen door here. ‘Attacks cardinals, finches, sparrows …’ What are you feeding these poor things?”

She: “That’s attRacts, dear, not attAcks. Trust me, this stuff is the attackEE, not the attackER. And at the rate the birds are going through it, it’s we who are going to be ‘poor’, not them!

He: “Do they lay carpet, hang pictures, and stuff?”

She: “What?”

He: “The birds. You said they were tackers. And if we have to do repairs on the poorhouse, we might have to use their services. I’ve always heard they’ll work for cheep.”

9 thoughts on “Rockin’ Sockin’ Dinner

  1. Yes, folks, this is an average discussion at our dinner table. Reading back through it like this I find myself wondering how it is we ever find time to eat, but we both manage to down more than an ample amount of calories.

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