He: “Good night, love.”
She: “I don’t [ptui!] think so!”
He: “What’s the matter? Not sleepy?”
She: “No! Because you haven’t saved me yet! You’re supposed to be my rescuer!“
He: “And what am I supposed to be rescuing you from?“
She: “The bugs!“
He: “The bugs is bugging you?”
She: “Right. Here’s what’s up doc, you looney tune. The bugs are bugging me!”
He: “What bugs?”
She: “The little ones that keep [ptui! ptui!] flying into my mouth!”
He: “Oh. You mean the gnats.”
She: “Yes!!“
He: “Sorry, not my department. You need the right hero for this job.”
She: “And just who would that be?”
He: “Who else? Gnatty Bumppo!”
She: “Are you trying to be the last of the Mohicans or something? What about those bugs on the ceiling? What if they start flying into my mouth??”
He: “Don’t think so. Not that kind of bug. Especially if you keep staring at them and worrying about them.”
She: “Well, what kind of bug are they?”
He: “Crick beetles.”
She: “[…] As in ‘crick of the neck?'”
He: “Yeah …”
She: “Have I told you lately that you’re too much work? Good night!”
He: “Hey. Isn’t that what I said way up at the top of the page?“
Okay, reader, you say that following Charley’s line of thought while reading his posts is too much work? Try living with him.
(Of course I love you, honey, but sometimes you are too much work.)