Rambodoc at large

Thanks, Stan Kegel, for this amazing bit of wordsmithery!

A consonant walks into a bar and sits down next to a vowel.

"Hi!" he says. "Have you ever been here before?"

"Of cursive," she replies. "I come here, like, all the time."

He can tell from her accent (which is kind acute) that she is a Vowelly Girl. He looks her over. She's short and has a nice assonance. He thinks she has a fine upper-case as well.

He remains stationery, enveloped by her charm. His initial reaction is so pronounced, he doesn't know what to say. He is, at present, tense.



"You've a lovely set of... teeth," he sputters. "Do you Crush with breast--I mean, do you brush with Crest?"

"Oh my God, gag me with a spoonerism! Your mind is in the guttural, fer sure."

Admiring her figure of speech, he falls into a fantasy. He pictures a perfect wedding. They exchange wedding vowels.

The minister says, "I now pronouns you husband and wife."

They kiss each other on the ellipsis. "I love you, noun forever, " he whispers. The conjugation is in tiers.

(In a word, they are wed.)

He awakens from his daydream and proposes a dance.

She declines.

"Let's go outside," he says to her. "I'd like to have a word with you."

"Are you prepositioning me?"

"I won't be indirect. You are the object of my preposition."

"Oh my God, you're like, such a boldfaced character!"

"I see your point. But I'm font of you."

"Do I have to spell it out to you? You're not my type, so get off my case!"

Reluctantly, he decides to letter b.

"Now my evening lies in runes," he laments.

He leaves, hoping to have letter luck next time.
(By Gary Roma)