“I saw another article about Tom Cruise today. Something about aliens? He has totally lost his fucking mind. Seriously – he is completely fucking insane.”
“Awesome. His production company dropped him and everything, didn’t they?”
“Oh yeah. He’s gone totally mental. I have to admit I’m really enjoying watching his mind visibly disintegrate.”
“Well, we’ve got fifty-odd years of watching that happen to each other.”
“That is reassuring. Just promise me you’ll never become a Scientologist.”
“I think you’re safe there.”
“That should have been in our wedding vows. ‘I promise to love, honour, and never become a Scientologist.’”
“I like how you managed to skip right over ‘obey’ there.”
“Well, I think this is a better deal for you over the long run. What would you rather have – ‘I promise to love, honour and not become a Scientologist’? Or ‘I promise to love, obey, and clear your negative vibrations from past incarnations’? Or whatever?”
“Good point.”
“I think the Scientology thing would be a real deal-breaker.”
“Just please tell me if you do become a Scientologist.”
“I promise.”
___________________________________________________________________
“Hello?”
“Hey hon!”
“Are you OK? What’s up?”
“I wanted to tell you this joke! What goes, ‘Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, BANG’?”
“Uh…a horse getting shot?”
“An Amish drive-by shooting!”
“Thank you for calling me at work to tell me that.”
“No problem. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.”