She: “Are they ready yet?”
He: “Are what ready?”
She: “The lemons on the tree next to the carport.”
He: “No. And they never will be.”
She: “Well, why not? They’re yellow … sort of …”
He: “That’s not what you asked me. You asked if they were reddy!”
She: “Pft. Who ever heard of a red lemon?”
He: “OK, you probably couldn’t fit War and Peace on one of those. But you might get a campaign poster. As if we need any more than we’ve got already.”
She: “As if the campaigners weren’t all fruitcakes! I was not looking for reading material. I was looking for lemonade! Can I get lemonade out of these things yet?”
He: “No.”
She: “How much longer do I have to wait?”
He: “Forever.”
She: “Because you’re going to make me wait until the birds or the neighbors get them so I can’t have any?!?”
He: “No. Because they’re not lemons. They’re limes.”
She: “How do you know?”
He: “Would I lime to you?”
She: “I hope so!”
He: “Hm?”
She: “Because then, with a little salt and maybe not so little tequila, I could forget that I ever offered you Russian dressing for your salad last night.”
He: “That stuff needed to chill.”
She: “I had it in the refrigerator!”
He: “And it was still rushin’. Never got the memo, I guess. This is Hawai‘i. Try wait. Speaking of ‘try’ …”
She: “What are these?”
He: “They’re figs. Fresh off the tree in the front yard.”
She: “Figs, as in fig newtons?”
He: “They’re old hat. But these are the bomb. Wash ’em and eat ’em whole. Far better than those cookie thingys.”
She: “You’re right!”
He: “Alert the media!”
She: “Don’t, and say you did. Anything else you can do with fresh figs?”
He: “Well, I do have a serving suggestion. Picture this: mint ice cream.”
She: “Ewww! Why would you do that?!?”
He: “So you could have a fig mint in your imagination.”
She: “[…] Have you imagined a place where you can sleep tonight?!?”
One Response to He and She: This Little Figgy …