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“Are you using that kettle you bought?”
“Yes, you can see that.”
“Are you making coffee? I’ll have a cup.”
“No, I’m going to steam a letter open.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“Who’s letter? Why would you do that?”
“I’m nosey, what do you care?”
“Um, because it’s an invasion of privacy?”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it, it’s an invasion of privacy. Would you do that to my letters?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether I recognize the writing or not.”
“Most people use typed labels. And send emails these days, so you wouldn’t be able to recognize the writing.”
“I wouldn’t steam open an email, it would ruin the computer!”
“Funny. Looks like I wouldn’t have an affair then.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, if you’re going to resort to subterfuge, it’s not worth the risk.”
“Subterfuge? Me? You’re the one having the affair.”
“But you have an affair thinking you have to be careful and not to be found out.”
“Surely you’re having an affair because you fancy the other person more than the one you’re with?”
“Yes, I know, that’s a given. I’m talking about once you’ve embarked upon said affair, you have to be careful.”
“And?”
“And I wouldn’t bother if I know you’re going to randomly open my letters.”
“Fair point. But why would you send letters to your mistress?”
“I don’t know, it’s romantic sending missives to your lover.”
“Missives?”
“But it’s still wrong.”
“Who would you have an affair with?”
“No idea.”
“C’mon, must be someone – dead or alive.”
“Eeugh, I’m not having an affair with a dead person. Gross and weird.”
“You’re so literal. Of course, the dead person would be alive.”
“You didn’t clarify that did you.”
“It’s the same principle as, ‘who would you have at a dinner party -dead or alive?’ The assumption is made that the dead person you choose is alive. Wouldn’t be much of a conversation going on if you invited Gandhi and he’s just sitting there decomposing over the shrimp cocktail.”
“That’s just gross, talk about ruining the party. But Gandhi was vegetarian, so at least the shrimp won’t be ruined.”
“Fair point.”
“The kettle’s starting to boil.”
“And?”
“Well, if you’re going to steam a letter open, hello, you need the steam.”
“Oh yeah, good point.”
“Where’s the letter anyway?”
“What letter?”
“The one you’re going to steam open?”
“I wouldn’t do that, seriously? I’m making coffee.”
“Oh my God, why couldn’t you just tell me you’re making coffee instead of giving me the whole ‘steaming open a letter’ rubbish.”
“’Cause you’re gullible.”
“Am not.”
“Yeah, you are, you went ranting on about how I shouldn’t be doing it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t do it.”
“Yes, I know, I do have a moral compass. Or is it ethical?”
“No idea. Both in my book.”
“So, do you want coffee?”
“I’m in the mood for tea.”
“Lipton or that fancy stuff you paid an arm and a leg for?”
“It wasn’t that expensive. It’s from England.”
“Um read, ‘expensive’.”
“Lipton will do.”
“Why not the Twinning’s? You paid for it.”
“I’m saving it.”
“For what? When the Queen pops around? When was the last time she visited America?”
“King.”
“What?”
“It’s King. Um remember the Queen died. Like a few months ago.”
“Oh yeah, can’t believe how upset you got.”
“Well, I loved her.”
“Such an anglophile?”
“What did you call me?”
“An anglophile. Someone who loves all stuff British.”
“Oh, yeah. I suppose. Anyway, Christmas.”
“Christmas?”
“For when I’ll use the fancy tea.”
“It’s September.”
“It will last, tea doesn’t go off.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure.”
“Google it.”
“It will last.”
“Here’s your tea.”
“Thanks. What did you think of dinner?”
“It was alright.”
“Eloquent synopsis as always.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Be a bit more expressive perhaps?”
“I’m not a damn food critic.”
“Yes, I know, but you have taste buds and a knowledge of descriptive words.”
“Fine. The cream cheese added a tangy je ne sais quai to the entire dish, while the mushrooms exploded with its earthy robustness. And the pasta, well, what can I say. Every Italian’s wet dream of what ‘al dente’ means.”
“Good grief. You’re an idiot. I used mixed mushrooms.”
“I noticed.”
“So you liked it?”
“Yeah, it was all right.”
“I’m so going to throw this tea all over you.”
“That would be a waste.”
“This is Lipton’s. If I had the Twinning’s, then it would be a waste.”
“You have your priorities.”
“Damn right!”
“Where you going?”
“Getting tired of standing in the kitchen.”
“No stamina.”
“Oh shut it. Anyway, I wanted to watch NCIS.”
“It’s Monday.”
“And?”
“It’s not on.”
“Are you sure? Hey, the sofa is big enough for the both of us!”
“I may have been coming in for a cuddle.”
“With a coffee in your hand?”
“You’re on my side.”
“Alright, I’ve moved over. Happy now.”
“Ecstatic.”
“I bumped into Millie.”
“Give me the remote.”
“No, I’m going to check if NCIS is on.”
“You’re such a doubting Thomas.”
“No I’m not.”
“Really?”
“I’m not. Oh, it’s not on today.”
“What a shock, glad I’m sitting down.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit you know.”
“Well, it’s been my friend for a number of years, ain’t about to bail.”
“There’s never anything on.”
“There is, just not what you want to watch.”
“Fine – there’s never anything on …that I want to watch.”
“Alien versus Predator is on? Let’s watch that?”
“Seen it too many times.”
“Hmm…”
“We’ve got Sam’s birthday party on Saturday.”
“Oh man.”
“Before you say anything, yes we have to go.”
“Why? He’s four – we went last year.”
“We’re going for the food. Millie always does a great barbeque, plus we’re her friends.”
“The theme better not be cowboys again.”
“The theme wasn’t cowboys.”
“Yes it was.”
“No, it was dinosaurs.”
“Na-ah – cowboys; I remember wearing that stupid cowboy hat.”
“You’re thinking of Ed’s Wild West for his 30th.”
“No, Sam’s third birthday was cowboys.”
“Dinosaurs. Last year it was Thomas, year before…”
“Who’s Thomas?”
“Thomas the Tank Engine?”
“Oh right. Definitely cowboys though.”
“Oh for crying out loud! Do I need to find the invitations?
“You’ve kept the invitations from a three year’s old party?”
“They were hand made.”
“In twenty years is this place going to have piles of paper and crap all over so you can’t walk anywhere?”
“Well, if I have to prove a point – maybe.”
“But I’m right with the cowboys – where are you going?”
“I’m getting that invite…”
“Always have to be right don’t you?”
“Oh…”
“Well?”
“Last year it was Cars – I could have sworn…”
“Ha – you were wrong too.”
“Why did I think it was dinosaurs?”
“So what’s this year’s theme? Why are you laughing?”
“The theme’s cowboys…”
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