True Love

“There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza, there’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.”

“Well, don’t look at me, dear Henry, dear Henry, I’m busy doing all the chores you never get around to dear Henry, just fix the damn thing and stop bothering me already.”

“Well, that’s great dear Liza, but what do you expect me to fix it with dear Liza?”

“Good grief, dear Henry, can you really not think of anything for yourself, why don’t you use some straw or something?”

“You want me to fix a hole in a bucket with straw, dear Liza? Don’t be such a daft old biddy, there’s no way that’s going to work. And look at the straw it’s far too long.”

“Give me strength. Dear Henry: if something’s too long you cut it, don’t you?”

“And what do you want me to do that with dear Liza?”

“With a fish, dear Henry. Or maybe a giant roaming elephant. Oh, what do you think? With a knife of course!”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen this knife dear Liza, but it’s a blunt instrument, it’d lose a fight against butter.”

“Well, dear Henry, I think maybe the obvious thing to do is to sharpen it then, don’t you? Do I really have to think of everything around here?”

“Okay, fine, dear Liza, and what would you like me sharpen it with?”

“Try a stone, dear Henry?”

“Dear Liza, they’re too dry.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, dear Henry, when something’s too dry you make the damn thing wet again, don’t you?”

“Thank you so much for that glowing piece of wisdom dear Liza, but how exactly do you want me to carry the water to wet a stone in the first place?”

“Well, I would suggest, dear Henry, that you use the….”

“Yes, dear Liza. Use the what? What did you say?”

Silence.

A bit more silence.

“So, dear Liza, do you think we should maybe go into a town and buy a new bucket?”

“Yes, dear Henry, that sounds like a good idea.”

Picture credit/discredit: author's own work