At church today I sat between Laura and a beautiful, steely hair, auntish woman. In vivid detail she told us all about how the Kindle she’d bought from Amazon had broken due to a leaky battery and how she’d had to return it.
Maybe it as to do with misinterpreting a bit of the midwestern accent, but I’ve always thought that folks here pronounce “Kindle” in a way that sounds more like “Ken Doll.” So when she finished, I told her that she didn’t seem like the type of lady who still enjoyed playing with Barbie and Ken-Dolls. It was a bad joke. And it hit with a dull thud.
Auntie J: I’m sorry?
Me: Oh no, I was just making a joke about how your Ken Doll broke.
Auntie J: Oh, I get it. I’m a little slow on the draw this morning.
She pauses and looks through me.
Auntie J: I really am sorry, you know.
Me: No, no, no, it was my fau….
Auntie J: (smiling, interrupting): Oh I wasn’t talking to you, hon. I was talking to Laura. Laura, if this is his humor, I really am sorry.