Breakfast with Harold and Sylvia

Harold grabbed a bowl of cereal and a coffee and sat down at the table opposite Sylvia.  He held the Globe and Mail which he had folded in half so that he was able to hold the newspaper with one hand and spoon cereal into his mouth with the other.

“It’s wonderful looking at you through several layers of newsprint.”

“Excuse me did you say something?”

“No I was actually speaking to my lover who happens to be standing behind you.”

“Well I hope he gets it more often than I do.”

“Well yes he does because he spends more time paying attention to me and less time adoring the TV. And he can last longer than a commercial timeout during one of your hockey games.”

“”That’s very sweet of you to notice.  I was under the impression that you fall into a coma during love making.”

“A coma would be a good thing. It would mean I didn’t have to smell that seductive cologne that you wear. What is it called Eau de Deli Meat?”

“That could be because your two culinary specialties are ‘go out’ and ‘take out’.”

“Thank you.  I’ve been very impressed with your own skills which are limited to what you can char beyond recognition on the grill or stuff into a bun.”

“Speaking of charred, if you spend any more time at the tanning salon you will begin to look like a rotisserie hot dog. It’s such an attractive look.”

“I’m sure it’s not nearly as attractive as your belly which looks like it as consumed a keg of beer that is desperately attempting to escape through your belly button.  It’s no wonder you things are all over the floor.  You can no longer see them.”

“Well many of them are lost in the giant dust balls that have taken over the house.  I believe the dog has adopted one of them as a new playmate.”

“Yes the poor dog who yearns to discover whether the world extends beyond the confines of our backyard.  The park down the street is just a fading memory and a long lost scent to poor Bart.”

 “Sylvia, I would love to continue this charming conversation but I’m running late. I’ve got to be downtown by 8:30.”

“What time will you be home for dinner tonight?”

“Just after six o’clock depending on traffic.”  He leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek.  “Have a good day.”

“You too dear.”

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