She: But you keep a sword in your bedroom.
Me: You say that like it’s a weird thing.
She: It is a weird thing!
Me: What’s weird about it? Where do you keep your sword?
She: …. [drinks deeply of Jameson’s Irish Whisky]
Me: The cleaver in the kitchen doesn’t seem to bother you much.
She: We’re not talking about your kitchen.
Me: Perhaps we should. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable there.
She: Maybe. Less swords.
Me: Fewer.
She: What?
Me: Fewer swords. There are fewer swords in my kitchen than in my bedroom, but vastly more cleavers.
She: There will be fewer women in your bedroom, but more proper grammar.
Me: It’s actually more of a usage issue than a grammatical one. If we’re being technical.
She: Has anyone ever just lit you on fire? Just like here, now, in front of a herd of witnesses, just doused you with Jamie’s and set light to you?
Me: Nobody’s ever cared enough. Until now.

N.P.: “Ready To Die” – Andrew W.K.