Tipsy
“Hurrumph!” The old general was getting ornery again, pacing back and forth, hat beneath his arm. “I have no patience for these hard candies.”
“Now, darling,” said his wife. “You know we must put on a good face. We’ve got guests coming soon.”
“Damn it all, Marjory! You put one of these so called ’sweets’ into your mouth, and they refuse to melt. But it’s not like a frozen chocolate bar, no, not at all! It’s quite acceptable to bite down with all your might on a frozen candy bar! But not on a hard candy- that’s considered cheating by some of the debutantes and hoity toity poshes of this damned world.”
“Why must you treat me so? I only gave you the butterscotch num num because I thought you would enjoy it, general. If you didn’t want it, you could have spit it out.”
“Spit it out? A perfectly fine candy? My dear Marjory, I only get a churchmouse’s share of butterscotch in my diet as it is! If I am to go without butterscotch simply because the candymakers are so daft witted as to make it harder than taffy? I say!”
“No, I say. We have guests soon, stop pontificating and blowing about, you’ll scare them off.”
“Ha! I don’t wish to converse with anyone to-night anyhow. This whole hard candy business has gotten me quite into a stir. I doubt I shall sleep without my tipsy tonight.”
“Your what?”
“My tipsy, my dear woman! My tipsy!”
“My darling general, I have no idea what you are speaking of.”
“Goodness gracious dear me, whatever on earth are you talking about. My tipsy! My one confidante and friend in times of need! My helper, my second in command! We cruised the beaches of Omaha together, yes, and the fields of India! Burma fell beneath both our hands.”
“Dear lord, you’ve gone mad.”
“My tipsy bottle filled with the blood of infants, woman!”
“Oh. Well, you could have just said that, general. Speaking of, the guests are here. Oh, and they’ve brought little Timmy with them!”
“How… tipsylicious.”