The Montel Williams Blender

ME: You gave me your cold.

HIM: Is your chest congested?

ME: Like the 405 & 101 interchange at rush hour

HIM: Are you dizzy?

ME: Yup

HIM: No I mean dizzier than usual.

ME: I’m not dizzy, but yes, I’m VERY dizzy.

HIM: Yep that’s my cold. And you say I never give you anything.

ME: I know. I feel like I’m sitting behind J Edgar Hoover’s Tombstone hatching gnats.

HIM: Okay translate into earth terms.

ME: What do you mean translate? Obviously I mean horrible. Imagine how tacky J Edgar Hoover’s tombstone would be, and how difficult it would be to sit on a nest of gnat eggs while looking at something like that for hours.

HIM: Are you having you having a stroke on the installment plan?

HIM: Honey, are you in the mood to do me a favor?

ME: Of course not.

HIM: Help me write this.

ME: (thinking… and opportunity knocks… thank God he hates writing.)

HIM: Come on I HATE to write.

ME: Mayyyybe.

HIM: Please… help me.

ME: Fix my Montel Williams blender?

HIM: I KNEW you’d figure out a way to make me fix that lame thing. (Looks at the blender) Oh just needs a washer. (Goes to his secret hiding place for his fix-it thingies)

(5 minutes later)

HIM: Okay I’m done.

ME: Me too… read it, see if you like it.

HIM: It’s great, my father was right about you. You’re an amazing writer. I wish I could write like you.

ME: That wouldn’t be good.

HIM: Why not?

ME: Then who would fix the blender?

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