Full Impulse Power, Mr Scott!

My beloved husband has welcomed in the New Year with a cold. Not just any cold. This is a nasty malevolent monster that has come in punching and kicking, not one of those meek little viruses that skips in and out again after causing a sniffle and a polite cough or two.

He sounds like the Elephant’s Child.

Actually, if his nose gets any more swollen it will in fact start to resemble… ah, no. I’d better not go there. Besides, elephants aren’t particularly thin, as he is, although come to think of it elephants aren’t endowed with a nice thick thatch of hair either and… Oops. I think I’d better quit with that line of thought, too.

He has dubbed himself (the weak of stomach can leave now) “Snotty.”

As in: “Beam me aboard, Snotty…“

I did not come up with this. It is not my fault. I’ve been sweet and kind and solicitous, to the extent that’s possible, given my personality, and no comment from the peanut gallery about how barely possible sweetness and light is when mentioned in the same sentence with the essence of me, thank you, because you peanuts need to remember what happens to peanuts when they’re around elephants, and we started this by talking about the Elephant’s Child, remember? One doesn’t want to get eaten by a peanut-hungry snacking elephant, does one? I didn’t think so. So you can stop those sly looks and murmured comments Right Now.

I would never ever ever do such a thing as calling a suffering dripping coughing droopy husband “Snotty.” Nope. See – my fingers aren’t even crossed. So there.

He is, of course, torturing me with the results of taking on Snotty’s persona.

To fully appreciate this, O Best Beloved, imagine hearing the following, spoken in a thick congested voice that could, if one has even the tiniest bit of imagination, sound just like a Scottish elephant from the 23rd century:

“Khapting, I ken only gib you imbpulse power!”

*Sniff*

“Way to go, Snotty! Helm, full impulse. Mr. Snott, we need those warp engines as soon as possible.”

*SNIFF*

“Aye, Khapting!”

*snnnniiiifffffFF*

Pass the honey, whiskey and lemon juice, please. Even if Snotty doesn’t need it, I do!

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  By Dave Skiles, January 3, 2007 @ 5:09 pm

  If his nose was full of nickels, he’d blow it all on you.

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