ME: “Jeez, I think I should clean the toilet.”
OTHER ME: “Say you were writing a
traditional poem—what’s a good word that rhymes with toilet?”
ME: “Focus here. The toilet has a
ring.”
OTHER, OTHER ME: “Toilet is a
loser word, and why would you want to rhyme anything with anything? Not only
that, poets are suicidal by nature.”
OTHER ME: “Goodnight, my kitten…
That’s what Ernest Hemingway said to his wife just before he shot himself.”
OTHER, OTHER ME: “Theoretically, you
could clean a toilet with a gun.”
ME: “Maybe we should do something
else?”
OTHER ME: “What were we doing,
anyway?”
ME: “Something having to do with
knitting, I think.”
—Mitchell Hegman
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