2004-12-08

Oxtongue

(written by Sarah:) I cook. I volunteer to wash the dishes. I am a kind, selfless soul. Boy, apparently overwhelmed by the magnanimity of my spirit, begins to hand me the dirty plates as I wash.

Mrrrroww?

I take the cup.

Fnerrrflaarrgenschoff?

I take the bowl.

Oxtungcod?

I BURN MY EFFING FINGERPRINTS OFF.

“Owowowowwow, dammit. Double-yoo tee eff, mate?”

“I did warn you.” “Excuse me?”

“In German. And… well, French…”

“Look, Boy, ‘oxtongue cod’ might be a very nasty foodstuff in some part of the world, but it is not a warning anywhere.”

“No! Not ‘oxtongue cod,’ [axst..k.d]”

”‘Oxtongue cod’?”

“No, no, no. [axst..k.d]”

”‘Oxtongue cod’? Ohhhhhhhhh. ‘Achtung, chaud’?” “Right!” “Right.” “Right.” “I hate you.”