She: “So I was at the store today, looking at the cast iron frying pans and …”
He: “No.”
She: “What?!?”
He: “No. No. Non. Nyet. Nein. ‘A‘ole. Hie. Ix-nay, ady-lay.”
She: “I don’t suppose any of those mean ‘maybe’.”
He: “Maybe not.”
She: “But why not? What have you got against cast iron?”
He: “The cast part. As in ‘picking you up off the floor and rushing you to the hospital to get one.'”
She: “What, you think I can’t handle my pans? That after all this time you think I’m all thumbs in the kitchen?”
He: “So you want me to call you a panhandler?”
She: “!!!”
He: “You’re safe. Because it’s precisely the opposite – you’re no thumbs in the kitchen. At least, none that can be counted on to do a day’s work. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sorry, but you don’t have opposable thumbs anymore. You have oppositional thumbs, and disloyal ones at that. Bad enough when one of those thumbs goes postal while you’re holding a fork and it flips egg on your face. I’m not letting you challenge the opposition with a 12″ cast iron fry pan full of hot bacon. Not gonna happen.”
She: “Not even in a pinch?”
He: “Love, if you could do that pinch, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, now would we? It does make me wonder how you manage when the recipe calls for a pinch of salt.”
She: “I use pincers.”
He: “Hm. Wonder if that idea’s been marketed.”
She: “Of course.”
He: “You’re kidding, right?”
She: “Sorry. You’re going to have to cast around for another get-rich-quick idea. That one’s taken.”
He: “Heavy cream.”
She: “… whut?”
He: “About the only way we’re going to get rich. Quickly or otherwise.”
She: “Is this a good time to tell you that I’ve been using part skim …?”
… finger-licking good.
… which finger …?
all of them 🙂
How about a marble rolling pin? May I buy a marble rolling pin?
You use a pin to roll marbles? That’s not what I remember …
Okay, then I’ll just leave the marbles scattered on the floor.
Not yours, I hope. School starts in two weeks here in Hawai‘i, and you wouldn’t wish to deprive the children of the opportunity to lose them for you.
Nope. Yours. On your side of the bed, too!
This was fun!
Ya know what? When Quilly first said she wanted a cast iron frying pan I thought, oh hell NO! She’ll kill herself!
Gee, thanks, Nat. If I get my hands on a cast iron skillet, I think I’ll model Eugene Fitzsimmons and use it for self-defense.
https://youtu.be/Ru-92YnNQUA