It Began With a B
I think I might have posted this before, but if I did it was a long time ago.
I've been going through some old files, making lists. I like making lists. I'm currently making a giant list of all the ideas I've ever had for another novel, as well as ideas I've had for random content and for Clever Devices, and characters, and... oh well, let's just say I love lists.
So far I have 238 items in my List of Ideas For Novel III. I might need to narrow it down a bit.
But anyway, while perousing [eek, that thing's just happened where a word stops seeming like a real word, and I can't for the life of me work out how to spell that, or even whether I don't mean some other word entirely] an old file, I came across this, which as I said up there I may have posted before, but what the hell, it's funny. It's an actual real conversation some actual real elderly people had with each other, when they were in different rooms and couldn't quite hear each other, a few years ago.
Bob: “You mean Simon.”
Betty: “What dear?”
Bob: “Simon.”
Betty: “Oh no dear, that’s not the one.”
Bob: “Yes it is. Simon.”
Betty: “No, it began with a B”
Bob: “What?”
Betty: “A B, dear, it began with a B. I know, because he kept bees.”
Bob: “Bees, did you say?”
Betty: “Yes, bees. Bertie, that was his name.”
Bob: “No dear, Simon didn’t keep bees.”
Betty: “I know he didn’t. Simon was the one from the farm. It wasn’t Simon I was talking about.”
Bob: “No, Simon didn’t keep bees. He was the one from the farm dear, do you remember?”
Betty: “Yes, I know that. I’ve known that all along. I was talking about the one with the bees.”
Bob: “Bertie, that’s what he was called, the one with the bees. Fancy you forgetting Bertie’s name. You always used to remember it because it began with a B. Your memory really is getting bad.”
___
I've been going through some old files, making lists. I like making lists. I'm currently making a giant list of all the ideas I've ever had for another novel, as well as ideas I've had for random content and for Clever Devices, and characters, and... oh well, let's just say I love lists.
So far I have 238 items in my List of Ideas For Novel III. I might need to narrow it down a bit.
But anyway, while perousing [eek, that thing's just happened where a word stops seeming like a real word, and I can't for the life of me work out how to spell that, or even whether I don't mean some other word entirely] an old file, I came across this, which as I said up there I may have posted before, but what the hell, it's funny. It's an actual real conversation some actual real elderly people had with each other, when they were in different rooms and couldn't quite hear each other, a few years ago.
Bob: “You mean Simon.”
Betty: “What dear?”
Bob: “Simon.”
Betty: “Oh no dear, that’s not the one.”
Bob: “Yes it is. Simon.”
Betty: “No, it began with a B”
Bob: “What?”
Betty: “A B, dear, it began with a B. I know, because he kept bees.”
Bob: “Bees, did you say?”
Betty: “Yes, bees. Bertie, that was his name.”
Bob: “No dear, Simon didn’t keep bees.”
Betty: “I know he didn’t. Simon was the one from the farm. It wasn’t Simon I was talking about.”
Bob: “No, Simon didn’t keep bees. He was the one from the farm dear, do you remember?”
Betty: “Yes, I know that. I’ve known that all along. I was talking about the one with the bees.”
Bob: “Bertie, that’s what he was called, the one with the bees. Fancy you forgetting Bertie’s name. You always used to remember it because it began with a B. Your memory really is getting bad.”
___
Labels: Silly, Writing About Writing
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Perusing.
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