*burp* redux

Out on the porch, shivering in the mid-October night, talking about Joseph Wambaugh.

It peters out, and we just stand there shivering and smoking.

After a moment…

Nitram (dramatic basso profundo, extended): bbbRRRRuuUUUUrrrrrrrrrrpp

Me (not missing a beat, soubrette soprano): brrrrrrraaaaaaaaatp

Both of us immediately bend over laughing and snorting.

Me: How was that?

(I have been trying for about 15 years to get burp approval from him, but he keeps telling me I sound like a velociraptor.)

Nitram (still laughing helplessly): That was your best one yet!

Me: No shit!

Nitram (goes into the kitchen, almost shuts the door, opens it again, grinning, shaking his head): Hahaaaaaaaaaaaa!! Heh!

(I suddenly realize he means my best velociraptor burp yet, not my best overall burp. Dammit!)

Me (pointing to the makeshift kitchen island, a white enameled former Hoosier countertop nailed to the top of a manky old cabinet): Better hide behind that, I’m coming after you!

Nitram: What?

Me (velociraptor imitation): graaah! eyaaaak!!

Nitram: Oh! Haaaaaaaa! *runs away*

The things we do for spousal approval.