invention

We are nothing if not inventive in this house. A few days ago, my OTL, in a fit of rage*, broke the French press. Faced with the prospect of not having a cup of coffee, he fell to his knees in despair, raised his hands to the Goddess above and cried, "WHAT am I to do? HOW shall I go on?"**

Ever good in a crisis, I galloped in on my horse, brandished my sword and said, "Cease ye crying! Go forth, brave sir, and find me a fagot!"***

And he did.****


*Okay, so he accidentally knocked it into the sink, but where is the drama in that version?
**Technically, it was a little more prosaic, something along the lines of, "Oh, for Pete's sake." 
***That bit is all true.
****Luckily he could only find one stick because a bundle of them would have been overkill, no?

3 comments:

  1. And I thought you were going to make the joke about fagot's making the best coffee, but no. that's just my inappropriate sense of humor.

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  2. Different spelling I believe....faggot

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  3. Brilliant! Necessity being the Mother of Invention.
    (thank you so much for your note to me...it meant so much.)

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