Dear?
Yes.
Lunch is ready.
About damn time. Man could starve to death around here.
I had things to do. Like washing your socks and ironing your shirts. Here. Have some soup. And don’t be so cranky.
You say that as if I’m not always this way.
Usually you’re not. You only get snippy whenever you’re hungry. Otherwise, you’re a kind and—
Please. Don’t say that word.
Don’t say what word?
The word that I’ve asked you never to say. That almost escaped your lovely red lips.
Well you’ve made such a fuss, now I’ve forgotten what I was saying. Tell me again what word it was.
Oh no no no. I’m not letting you off that easily, my dear. You’ll just have to guess. I will give you a hint, though, it starts with “L.”
It’s obviously not “lunch”...is it “loggerhead”?
Very funny. No.
“Loquacious”.
No.
“Lukewarm”… “lopsided”…
No. And no.
“Liberal”... “lion-hearted”... “islets of Langerhans”…
“Islets of Langerhans” doesn’t start with a L.
Yes I know but it’s fun to say, isn’t it. What about “lemonade”?
None for me, thanks.
No I—
Oh you mean...no that’s not it either. Why in the world would it be “lemonade”?
I was under the impression you didn’t care for it much.
I love lemonade.
Cross that off the list. Oh! Is it “list”?
No of course it’s not “list.”
“Lingonberry”.
No.
“Lebanese”.
You’re just toying with me aren’t you.
“Loathsome”, “lugubrious”...what is your problem with this “L” word exactly?
It embarrasses me. Makes me feel...vulnerable, I suppose.
Ohhhhh...I remember now. Well you are, you know.
No. I am not. I'm a rotten, miserable, crusty old buzzard. I am a perfect wretch and you know it.
Yes dear. I do.
I’m glad we agree.
But when all’s said and done, you’re “lovable” too.