The Pointy End

Story Sent in by Ellen:

We had just finished dinner at a neighborhood cafe when Colby pointed at me across the table, without a word.

My look must have been enough for him to explain: "Pull my finger."

I said, as politely as I could muster, that I had no intention of pulling his finger, now or ever.

"Best to get it out of the way now," he said, "Once we're married, it's all you'll be doing."

I told him, "I don't think that's what marriage is."

He asked me if I'd ever been married. I hadn't, although I had come close once. He said that I should then know that as a wife, my job was to pull whatever was pointed at me.

I said, "If I were you, I wouldn't point anything at me that you wouldn't want pulled off."

"I'll point whatever I want at you," he went on, "I've got a couple things pointed at you, right now." He pointed his finger at me again and said, "Note how I said, 'a couple of things.' 'A couple of things...'"

"I got it," I said, fumbling in my purse for enough money to pay for myself.

He pointed his other finger at me. "Now I'm pointing three things. Three very pointy things."

"Your nose?" I asked him.

"God, you're dense," he said.

"And you're flaccid," I said.

"I'm not. I'll prove it."

But by that point, I had my money out and I was one foot out the door. Goodbye and get lost!