Sunday, June 20, 2010

A Congregation of Incongruities

West Mitten Butte Monument Valley, view northe...
"It's butaful," she said, "utterly butaful."

"Didn't you mean to say, 'beautiful?' he asked.

"Your grammatically-correctness is showing," she responded, mockingly, "and no, I meant to say what I said. But-a-ful as in butte-uh-full. Not that prissy beyou-ti-full nonsense."

"You've never been the same since that trip to the Southwest, you know. First, it was 'kick butte,' then 'I've got to put on my buttes before going out,' and now this. What's next, shaking your butte-y when we go dancing?"

"Perhaps. Either way, it's my prerogative. A woman can adjust language to suit her mood and I am a woman, in case you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed, all right and usually, the mystery alone is enough to keep me from saying anything, but now and then I forget and this is one of those times."

"I'll forgive you," she said, sweetly, "men can only be expected to hold one or two incongruities in their heads per year and this is your third for the month."

"That's thoughtful," he responded, "one or two I can handle, but a congregation of incongruities -- and that's what it looks like this is turning into -- gets unwieldy. Do you think you can hold off a bit before introducing another?"

"Only if you say the magic word. Women everywhere are counting on me, you know," she said, teasing him in the way he could never resist.

"Ah, yes, the magic word," he said thoughtfully, trying to give as well as he'd gotten, "Let's see, is it wingardium leviosa? No? How about petrificus totallis? Not right, either. Mm, let's see...how about 'please?'"

Her smile said all he needed to hear.



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