Witty Dialogue: Five Snippets
She walked along the streets of New York, stopping at every intersection to check for traffic before crossing.
Her efforts did not go unnoticed.
"Why are you being so careful about making sure it's safe to cross the street? You look like a tourist," said the rather handsome young man who had been walking the same path for the last three blocks.
"My mommie taught me to look both ways before crossing the street." She responded, affecting an innocent young girl tone.
"But you only looked right at the last street." Commented the man with a grin.
"Vestiges of teenage rebellion," she replied swiftly,
then,
after a short pause,
"and it was a one way street."
"I swear! It was this big!" Clara said as she gesticulated wildly, trying emphatically to illustrate her point. Mid-flail, however, her elbow came to an abrupt and forceful stop against something that could only be described as fleshy.
"Oh! I'm so sorry..." she gasped, turning to see whom she had inadvertently struck.
She saw a well-dressed head of wavy brown hair and hands gripping protectively as a man stood doubled over in front of her. She turned to look at her dinner companion, stunned. Steff had her hand pressed to her mouth trying to repress the laughter, to no avail. It found other outlets, oozing from her eyes and reddening her face.
Steff would be no help. No help at all.
"I am so, so, soso sorry," babbled Clara as the man put a hand on the edge of their table to brace himself, and looked up to Clara. His eyes were a stunning grey-blue.
"Don't be," he said, starting to recover somewhat of his composure, "I've never been struck in the groin by so lovely a lady."
Clara only stared.
"Why are you staring at me like that?"
"It's just...." started Clara, almost as stunned as the man, "So few people seem to speak like that anymore."
"Like what?" Inquired the gentleman, placing his hands on his knees and carefully breathing evenly and slowly.
His face was only a few inches away.
"With such... consideration, purpose, and eloquence. As if the every day is sublime."
"Isn't it?"
"It all to rarely seems so. Especially now, when I've just assaulted you, a perfect stranger, in the most personal of ways."
"Well sometimes, the sublime saunters up in front of us, and elbows us in the proverbial gonads." said the gentleman with a rakish smile.
Clara continued to stare.
Steff exploded.
"And now!!!" Announced the grinning Groom with gusto to the empty room and the world at large, "I take my virgin bride."
The Bride laughed and responded in their traditionally playful manner of shakespearean-style verse.
"Following this night 'Virgin' I'll nevermore be, but 'Bride' evermore to thee.... My Love."
"Damnit!!" Exclaimed Jenni, cursing at her computer screen and startling the mail boy.
"What? What is it?" Asked her cube neighbor Deb.
"It's this psycho stalker who's been making my life a living hell for the last two weeks," replied Jenni, more quietly so as to not attract the wrath of her co-workers, "He has it set up so that every time I so much as breathe on the internet, he gets wind of it. It's positively stifling!!"*
It wasn't until breakfast was cooked and partially consumed, that the infamous Roomie emerged, clad only in smiley face boxers, a coon-skin cap from Alaska, and black, knee-high, leather Harley boots.
Lonna stared over her second mug of tea as he meandered muzzily to the fridge, took a long swig from the milk carton marked "For Mark's Mouth ONLY," poured a cup of coffee, and then wandered over to the table to sit down.
Lonna was the first to break the silence. The question had burned long enough.
"Why.... are you wearing boots to breakfast?" she asked of the pale man she had, up till now, only heard stories about.
He paused and tried to focus on her face as the question penetrated his morning grogginess.
"Attack kitten."
"What the...OW!! Hey! Get off! Owowow!! Back you little beast!! Back I say!"
He watched, sipping at his coffee, as she fended off her miniscule attacker with a piece of bacon and a fork and pulled her feet up out of range, sitting indian style on her chair.
"Bacon. Well played," he said as she glared at him, still stunned and bleeding slightly.
"What the HELL have you done to that poor cat!?!" She exploded, starting to believe the rumors.
"I'm training him to attack on command. We're only half-way there."
She stared.
He sipped.
The rumors were definitely true.
*This may amuse only me, but I thought it was pretty clever. Breathe, wind, and stifle all have to do with air. I am such a word nerd.
Her efforts did not go unnoticed.
"Why are you being so careful about making sure it's safe to cross the street? You look like a tourist," said the rather handsome young man who had been walking the same path for the last three blocks.
"My mommie taught me to look both ways before crossing the street." She responded, affecting an innocent young girl tone.
"But you only looked right at the last street." Commented the man with a grin.
"Vestiges of teenage rebellion," she replied swiftly,
then,
after a short pause,
"and it was a one way street."
"I swear! It was this big!" Clara said as she gesticulated wildly, trying emphatically to illustrate her point. Mid-flail, however, her elbow came to an abrupt and forceful stop against something that could only be described as fleshy.
"Oh! I'm so sorry..." she gasped, turning to see whom she had inadvertently struck.
She saw a well-dressed head of wavy brown hair and hands gripping protectively as a man stood doubled over in front of her. She turned to look at her dinner companion, stunned. Steff had her hand pressed to her mouth trying to repress the laughter, to no avail. It found other outlets, oozing from her eyes and reddening her face.
Steff would be no help. No help at all.
"I am so, so, soso sorry," babbled Clara as the man put a hand on the edge of their table to brace himself, and looked up to Clara. His eyes were a stunning grey-blue.
"Don't be," he said, starting to recover somewhat of his composure, "I've never been struck in the groin by so lovely a lady."
Clara only stared.
"Why are you staring at me like that?"
"It's just...." started Clara, almost as stunned as the man, "So few people seem to speak like that anymore."
"Like what?" Inquired the gentleman, placing his hands on his knees and carefully breathing evenly and slowly.
His face was only a few inches away.
"With such... consideration, purpose, and eloquence. As if the every day is sublime."
"Isn't it?"
"It all to rarely seems so. Especially now, when I've just assaulted you, a perfect stranger, in the most personal of ways."
"Well sometimes, the sublime saunters up in front of us, and elbows us in the proverbial gonads." said the gentleman with a rakish smile.
Clara continued to stare.
Steff exploded.
"And now!!!" Announced the grinning Groom with gusto to the empty room and the world at large, "I take my virgin bride."
The Bride laughed and responded in their traditionally playful manner of shakespearean-style verse.
"Following this night 'Virgin' I'll nevermore be, but 'Bride' evermore to thee.... My Love."
"Damnit!!" Exclaimed Jenni, cursing at her computer screen and startling the mail boy.
"What? What is it?" Asked her cube neighbor Deb.
"It's this psycho stalker who's been making my life a living hell for the last two weeks," replied Jenni, more quietly so as to not attract the wrath of her co-workers, "He has it set up so that every time I so much as breathe on the internet, he gets wind of it. It's positively stifling!!"*
It wasn't until breakfast was cooked and partially consumed, that the infamous Roomie emerged, clad only in smiley face boxers, a coon-skin cap from Alaska, and black, knee-high, leather Harley boots.
Lonna stared over her second mug of tea as he meandered muzzily to the fridge, took a long swig from the milk carton marked "For Mark's Mouth ONLY," poured a cup of coffee, and then wandered over to the table to sit down.
Lonna was the first to break the silence. The question had burned long enough.
"Why.... are you wearing boots to breakfast?" she asked of the pale man she had, up till now, only heard stories about.
He paused and tried to focus on her face as the question penetrated his morning grogginess.
"Attack kitten."
"What the...OW!! Hey! Get off! Owowow!! Back you little beast!! Back I say!"
He watched, sipping at his coffee, as she fended off her miniscule attacker with a piece of bacon and a fork and pulled her feet up out of range, sitting indian style on her chair.
"Bacon. Well played," he said as she glared at him, still stunned and bleeding slightly.
"What the HELL have you done to that poor cat!?!" She exploded, starting to believe the rumors.
"I'm training him to attack on command. We're only half-way there."
She stared.
He sipped.
The rumors were definitely true.
*This may amuse only me, but I thought it was pretty clever. Breathe, wind, and stifle all have to do with air. I am such a word nerd.