Monday, September 05, 2011


The waiter says “You must whisper.” “But...” I said. “He said ‘whisper’” my wife said. “But I am.” I said. “Why are you whispering?” the waiter asked. “This isn’t a library.” “This isn’t a library” my wife said. “You should be whispering.” “Why do you have to disagree with everything I say?” We all said at once. “You know,” I said, “Right now I am too hungry to eat.” “That’s OK,” my wife said, “We can just sit for a while and whisper.” “Speak up!” The waiter said, “What you are doing is not polite.” I started to feel angry. I didn’t speak up, I decided to stand up and do a little browsing. I found a terrific book by Emily Post. “That’s lovely,” my wife said. “Be careful not to drop it.” “I won’t” I said. “But you want to, don’t you?” she asked. I decided to change the subject. “You know what we are?” I asked her. “We are the only ones here” she said. “I know,” I said, “I guess we are the only ones who get hungry like this.” And then he was back, right on time.“Is there anything else I can get you?” the waiter asked. “You can get me something to start off with,” I said. “But it must be something quiet.” “But it doesn’t have to be quiet” my wife said. “Something like this?” the waiter whispered. “Or this?”

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