She: Salad dressing?
He: In the dining room? Maybe not the most appropriate place.
She: OK, then. Here’s your naked salad. Just like you ordered.
He: Um, no, dear, that’s gotta be yours.
She: Certainly not! Mine is dressed.
He: Ah. That’ll help preserve your blog’s reputation as being family-friendly, I reckon. But you’ll probably get a letter from some psychological watchdog group.
She: Psychological watchdog group?
He: Yeah. Johnny Cash got away with a boy named Sue. But that was, like, forty years ago, and I don’t think a lad named Sally is going to pass in today’s world without somebody’s lawyer making a comment.
She: “Sal” is a perfectly good boy’s name!
He: In that case it’s a good thing your salad is dressed. Sal might get embarrassed otherwise. ‘Course he probably should have thought of that before he wandered into the dining room in the buff after his shower. Y’never know when there might be ladies present.
She: Well, I’m glad you got that straightened out.
He: And that’s because …?
She: Because, if you think I’m ever going to serve you a salass, especially a naked one, you can think again!
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2009 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.