Breakfast Whimsy

NIECE: Morning, Argy!

UNCLE: Fair morrow, sister-daughter!

NIECE: What are you talking about? The fair doesn't start until next week.

UNCLE: Aye, but thou art fair today. Wilt thou break fast with me?

NIECE: I can't. I'm going to be late for basketball camp.

UNCLE: But hold! If thou break not thy fast, how shalt thou play fast break?

NIECE: Good point. Toast, please. And... why are you talking like that?

UNCLE: Thou knowest how I love the antique liter-

NIECE: Watch it! I'm a child! Auntie says I'm not supposed to know about these things.

UNCLE: I only meant that, last night as I snacked, with sudden wondrous visions was I wracked; a craving for the classics then attacked... Oh, how mine eyes did ache to read the Didache!

NIECE: Uncle Argent, you're an unclear gent.

UNCLE: Alas that, sister-daughter, thou shouldst honest seem, and yet not honest be!

NIECE: And that means...?

UNCLE: Why honest thou thy razor wit on me?

NIECE: Exactly what is it that you ate last night?

UNCLE: A few shittake mushrooms, that I found whilst looking for a drawer.

NIECE: Draw-er? As in a pencil?

UNCLE: Aye, in thy good brother's secret drawer.

NIECE: No! You didn't really take sh-- from Kevin's...

UNCLE: Shittake, dear. How strange that he should keep sweet mushrooms in his desk. What magic might the lad be working?

NIECE: Uh-oh. Look at the time!

UNCLE: Nay! 'Tis not too late for a latte.

NIECE: No, no. I'm off milk. Basketball diet.

UNCLE: 'Tis just as well; the milk is off. Blood of the grapefruit, then?

NIECE: Ew. Not when you put it that way.

UNCLE: But stay! Thou hast not packed a lunch.

NIECE: Well, OK, but I can't fit much more into my bag.

UNCLE: Would some cucumber sandwiches be too cumbersome?

NIECE: Wait a minute, this bag doesn't feel right. What the...

UNCLE: What is it, sister-daughter? Thy looks have gone beyond the pale.

NIECE: One of my shoes is missing! Where's my other shoe?

UNCLE: Ah! At last!

NIECE: At last what?

UNCLE: The last in the closet. Thou shouldst not leave things lying on the floor. Tripping could ensue.

NIECE: Someone's already tripping.

UNCLE: A hit! A palpable hit!

NIECE: This song? I've been meaning to change my ring-tone, like, all summer.

UNCLE: Answerest thou it not?

NIECE: It'll go to voice mail.

UNCLE: Zounds! That I should see the day when voices serve as mail! O hard, hard word...

NIECE: Eek! That's Tiffany, tooting her horn.

UNCLE: As she always does, the boastful creature. Well, 'tis time for thee to fly!

NIECE: Now that would make a cool ringtone...