She had prepared hash for dinner, and, as usual, He was making a hash of it.
He: [sets a black peppercorn to one side of his plate]
She: “Hey! You’re leaving out the best part! If you don’t want that, I’ll eat it!”
He: “That peppercorn is the size of a baseball! Bite into that, if you don’t break your teeth doing it, and all you’ll taste is pepper for a week!”
She: “Not. They’re soft, you know, after two days in the crockpot with the corned beef. And mild, too, most of the flavor’s in the hash. Just enough left for a nice burst when you bite into one. Like those coriander seeds you’re ignoring. Pop like caviar, they do, with a pop of flavor.”
He: “Right. The pop of flavor that comes as the plant’s trying to kill you. I keep saying, one of these days the vegetables are going to catch on to what the vegan movement means to them, and they’re not going to be happy. And when you make the world’s champions at chemical warfare mad at you, look out!”
She: “They’re just jealous that they don’t get planted, fed, watered, weeded, and debugged like the good plants do. Not to mention the conversations they get to have with us.”
He: “You mean the baby talk they have to endure?”
She [ignoring him]: “Are you just going to let those delicious coriander seeds lie there?”
He: “And what have they done to you so that you feel compelled to publicly question their veracity? They have feelings, you know. They have doubts. Questions. And they’re not coriander seeds.”
She: “They aren’t?”
He: “They are not. They’re cori-but-er seeds.”
She: “[…] I suppose they’re related to cori-or-er seeds.”
He: “And cori-so-er seeds.”
She: “I will not have another sow-er in this house. Or a sew-er either. There’s not enough room in the garden, and not enough space in the crafting room.”
He: “So you admit that your fabric stash is too big?”
She [ignoring him again]: “So, I wonder where those cori-or-er seeds are taking that canoe.”
He: “They’re taking a canoe nowhere with oars. You guide a canoe with paddles.”
She: “Are we going to have a row over this?!?”
He: “[…] More like a kayakitiyak.”
She: “Don’t talk back?”
He: “I don’t think so. I’d wonder who you were and what you’d done with my lady.”
She: “Aw. Thanks to that, I might even forgive you your mistreatment of coriander.”
He: “You might? Do I have to worry about cori-if-er now?”
You left out your surprised snort and accompanying giggles when I asked if we were going to have a row over this.
I chose to omit the sound effects.
Ha. Funny