Age Is Wasted On The Young

| Conover, NC, USA | Romantic | February 25, 2013

(My boyfriend and I are talking about electronics. My name is not Mable and his is not Dennis.)

Me: *elderly voice* “What’s with all these new fangled contraptions here? This one says it’s called a ‘meehcrowahve’. What in tarnation is that?!”

Boyfriend: *elderly voice* “What did you say? By the way, Mable, make me some tea and cookies! And put the denture wash tablet in some water for me!”

Me: “Maple?! I ain’t no tree! And what do you need dinner wash for? It’s not even time to eat yet!”

Boyfriend: “I said Mable, not Maple you rotten old bat!”

Me: “Rotten cold hat?! Dennis, you need your eyes checked if you think I look like a hat, you smelly ol’ coot!”

Boyfriend: “Mrs Galahad! You need to calm your little self and don’t make me call in whats-his-name! Oh, wait… he dropped dead of the plague Tuesday.”

Me: “I’m Mable, not your Mrs. Galahad! Now what did he drop Fred for?!”

Boyfriend: “PLAGUE, WOMAN! PLAGUE! He dropped dead not Fred! Who’s Fred?!”

Me: “We’re enjoying this way too much, aren’t we.”

Boyfriend: “Yes… yes we are.”

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