An Unintended Dinner Joke

Normally, I’m the one accused of improperly putting my foot in my mouth. I’ve argued in favor of my relative innocence over the years, indicating that my wife Dawn is as likely to commit a social faux pas as I am. Since she has a normal reputation, anytime she deviates into my clown forest of verbal missteps, it tends to be much more pronounced and noteworthy.

This week, Dawn had me chauffeur her to Hot Springs for a technology conference. She’s shortened her stern lecture about me not being crazy or saying anything too far off the wall.

Last night, Dawn’s company treated about 20 professionals, employees, and customers, to a delicious dinner at the Brick House.

Typically, I order strange menu selections and most often avoid meat. Usually there is enough meat on the table from the other guests to cause the president of PETA to have a coronary. That night, I had an order of fries, an order of asparagus, and an order of broccoli – and of course a superb salad. I had an array of sauces: A-1, Heinz 57, anything I could steal from those around me. (Asparagus might look like boiled snake throats, but it is a food from the heavens.)

We were engaging in witty back-and-forth banter, anecdotes, and typical supper conversation as we began to inhale our various selections.

Oddly, the entire table seemed to experience a unifying lull in conversation. It was if the Pope had wandered into the room playing a banjo or a unicorn had magically appeared on top of the table – and we all noticed and stopped talking simultaneously.

Dawn had been eyeing my menu selections, probably pondering the gastronomical consequences and symptoms I might later experience.
Into this previously cited lull, Dawn hollered these words, probably as the volume of talk to that point was high:

“Who wants to sleep with my husband tonight?”

Dead silence.

Then cacophonous laughter.

PS: There were no takers, in any case, so my wife Dawn rode back to the hotel with me, mentally flipping a coin as to how accurate her intended joke might turn out to be. As for who ate the largest selection of their own foot on this trip, I think Dawn earned her award this time.

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