A Monologue, a Bottle of Syrup, and a Much-Needed Laugh

Oscar has entered what I like to call “The Age of the Monologue.”  He doesn’t just speak in full sentences.  He talks in paragraphs–long ones that can go on for several minutes.  And as his intended listener, all you can do is precisely that . . . listen.  There is no room to get in a word, so it’s best just to sit back and enjoy the entertainment if not edification.

With the passing of my mother and the ensuing cleanup, this week has been grueling in every way–emotionally, spiritually, physically.  But the show here, obviously, goes on.  So yesterday morning as I was preparing breakfast for Oscar and Edgar (while August basked in the last few minutes of his night’s rest), the following monologue occurred at the breakfast table.

Now please understand that I did not record the monologue itself–that is, with any electronic device.  So, the words you see are my recollection of what Oscar said.  The salient details are precise, but some of the transitions are my own but, I can promise, truly in the spirit of what he said.

During the monoluge, Edgar simply and vociferously consumed his waffles–dripping, of course,  with his beloved Aunt Jemima’s syrup, completely ignoring Oscar, possibly smirking beneath the sticky residue around his mouth and on his chin.

And so the monologue began:“Edgar, even though she’s beautiful and I like her syrup, I’m not going to marry Aunt Jemima anymore.  I know you think you’re going to, but, you know, you can’t.  She’s A BOTTLE OF SYRUP!  You know what’s going to happen at your wedding, Edgar?  Everyone is going to come; and, then, when they realize the bride is a BOTTLE OF SYRUP, they’re going to leave.  What do you think is going to happen?  Do you think this BOTTLE OF SYRUP is going to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle?  And where are you going to have this wedding?  I actually think it’s illegal for you to marry a BOTTLE OF SYRUP.  Someone will probably call the police at your wedding, and they’ll come and arrest you.  That’s not a very nice wedding.  I know you think she’s beautiful and you love her syrup, but I think you should find someone else to marry.”

Sometimes, just when you need to laugh the most, to be reminded of the silliness, sweetness, and perfection of life, an opportunity presents itself.  And thank goodness for that.


One thought on “A Monologue, a Bottle of Syrup, and a Much-Needed Laugh

  1. This was very funny and made my morning! I found your blog because I googled Aunt Jemima Syrup Bottle—–I was wondering if these bottles were even made any more, you know, the whole stereotype argument…… This excerpt was as funny as the time I told my youngest son (age 2) that I thought he had chicken pox. His reply? “No, I can’t have chicken pox—-I haven’t been around any chickens!”

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