!@#$%&*+#%,” says I at breakfast this morning.
“Will you stop swearing! All you do is swear recently. What happened now?” says Wifey.
“OWIEEE, I just whanged my head bone on the icebox door. Who left it open, you?”
“It’s called a refrigerator. You opened it yourself.”
“!@#$%&*+#%, 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.