Utterly Epigrammatic Mutterings

He mumbles.

It drives me bonkers.

He knows it.

I know he knows it.

He knows I know he knows it.

He knows it drives me bonkers.

But he mumbles anyway.

Mumble, mumble, mumble.

Especially in the morning.

Which is when he typically makes heartfelt declarations.

Clearly and concisely.

Into his pillow.

To wit:

Hon, of all the women I’ve ever met, you’re tehmooselfina… (mumble, mumble)

I’m the what?

Tehmooselfina… (mumble, mumble)

Speak.  Clearly.  And.  Concisely.  It is six o’clock in the morning and I do not speak Pillow.

Clearly and concisely:  You’re the most incredible, freak.

Hunh. 

(mumble, mumble)

So what you’re saying is… 

(mumble, mumble)

Of all the women you’ve ever met, I’m the most incredible freak?

Yes, Duchess.  (mumble, snort, chuckle, mumble, guffaw)  You’re an incredible freak.

Thank you.

Yerwehlk… (mumble, mumble)

*

Ah.  Communication [kuh-MYU-nuh-KAY-shun]:  It’s what’s for breakfast.