STOP SWEARING!

!@#$%&*+#%,” says I at breakfast this morning.

“Will you stop swearing! All you do is swear recently. What happened now?” says Wifey.

“OWIEEE, I just whanged my head bone on the icebox door. Who left it open, you?”

“It’s called a refrigerator. You opened it yourself.”

“!@#$%&*+#%, I think I’m bleeding! Am I bleeding?”

“Let’s see. No, you’re not bleeding.”

“!@#$%&*+#%, I almost put my eye out!”

“It’s a tiny red spot. It’s nowhere near your eye. Stop swearing! Why are you swearing so much?”

“It’s this !@#$%&*+#% pandemic, maybe. Masks ... staying home ... nothing open ... can’t go anywhere. !@#$%&*+#%”

“STOP SWEARING! Here’s something you can do. My toilet’s plugged; can you fix it, please?”

“What again? !@#$%&*+#%, that’s a brand new bowl. Yeah, I’ll go plunge it.”

“Where’s the !@#$%&*+#% plunger?” I yelled from upstairs.

“Oh, sorry! I brought it down here yesterday,” says she.

“!@#$%&*+#%”

I fetched the required implement, finished the job, washed my hands, and returned to breakfast.

“I have a suggestion for you, Sweetie,” says I. “It’s a little memory aid; it might solve your toilet problem. Try to remember it:

                       How to stop plugging my crapper?
                       Flush once for the poop
                       And once for the paper.
                       He’ll stop swearing and smile up
                       If I don’t let things pile up.

... to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb. Let’s try it together. Ready?”

“!@#$%&*+#%,” says she.