I need to warn you, I’m going to tell a bad joke on occasion. Can’t help it, it’s bred in the bone. My Dad had a hand in it – he used to hide under my bed at night before I went to sleep. This big hairy hand would come up and grab my ankle. I’d let out a terrified scream, my Mom would come running in yelling “Phil! Get out from under that bed!”, and I’d hear my Dad laughing (he laughed just like that cartoon dog, I think his name was Mutley?). Anyway, I come by my odd sense of humor honestly.
So this guy goes to the doctor and complains that he thinks his wife is losing her hearing. The doctor tells the guy to go home and do a little experiment to really assess the situation.
So the guy gets home that night, and from the front door he can see straight into the kitchen. His wife is standing in front of the stove with her back to him, stirring something. So he says, in a normal tone of voice, “Hi sweetie! I’m home! What’s for dinner?”. He gets no response.
So he walks about halfway to where she’s standing, and says, “Honey, something smells great – what’s for dinner?”. Still absolutely no response. He’s thinking, “Oh boy, this is worse than I thought!”.
Finally, he gets right behind her, and says, “Hon, it’s great to be home, what are you making for dinner?”. His wife turns around, gives him look, points her spoon at him, and says, “For the THIRD time, it’s CHICKEN!”.
I think I’m that guy.
Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, “What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” C.S. Lewis