He and She: Ironing Things Out

Charlene's ironed elboxShe:Ow!!!


She: “I can’t believe it. I must be the only person in the world who’s ironed her elbow!

He: “Sounds like a pressing matter.”

She: “Depressing, if you must know. At least until it starts swelling up.”

He: “Well, you’ve got it under cool running water, which is good. And it’s not blistered, which is better. But …”

She: “But what?

He: “You just got checked out for knee replacement surgery, amirite? The iron’s supposed to be for your knee, not your elbow. And they won’t thank you for doing your own surgery. How will the physicians pay off their student loans, or cover the premiums on their malpractice insurance?”

She: “I suppose, if I ironed my knee, I’d forget about the pain in my elbow …”

He: “And your ears?”

She: “You want me to iron my ears?!? I don’t …”

He: “And your eyes too. Think about it. The word is spelled I-R-O-N. So how come we pronounce it i-urn? Why don’t we say it like it’s spelled?”

She: “Because then everybody named Ron would file a class-action defamation suit against the grammarians? Besides, I’m not in charge of spelling.”

He: “Too bad. Managing a Spelling could be lucrative. Tori is still active …”

She: “No thanks. Too stressful.”

He: “I suppose you’re going to tell me, then, that those in charge of spelling need, every once in a while, to be spelled.”

She: “No, but they’re often bewitched.”

He: “So you only see spellers after dark, the witching hour? Or are you telling me that they’re getting turned into bee witches, so you’ll only see them around bee hives? Since all the other bees are dying, maybe we can use the bewitched spellers to pollinate the strawberries?”

She: “Do I know you? Spellers can be seen at any time. You only have to believe.”

He: “Hm. I know nothing about bee leaves. I’ll have to start a new investigative branch.”

She: “Time to leaf this conversation.”

He: “Not until you tell me what happens to believers during leaf peeper season. Isn’t that a little like watching witches burn at the stake?”

She: “I prefer my steak rare.”

He: “You mean, like once a year? I know we’re both supposed to be on diets, but this is ridiculous.”

She: “[facepalm …]”

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