I stand up and take my dishes to the kitchen, belly stuffed.
"Ho, cha po," I say.
The sweetheart laughs.
"I mean really," I continue. "It's a good point. Ho cha po!"
"That's true," she says. "Ho cha po."
She rinses off a plate.
"Do you think," she says, "that someday we will just talk with words that nobody understands?"
"I don't see how that could ever arbogooben."
The sweetheart laughs.
"Frankly," I say, "the mere idea is froogoobagooku."
The sweetheart laughs again.
"Aboo gabba deedoo," she says.
"Aboo gabba deedoo ba-doo."
"Ho, cha po," I say.
The sweetheart laughs.
"I mean really," I continue. "It's a good point. Ho cha po!"
"That's true," she says. "Ho cha po."
She rinses off a plate.
"Do you think," she says, "that someday we will just talk with words that nobody understands?"
"I don't see how that could ever arbogooben."
The sweetheart laughs.
"Frankly," I say, "the mere idea is froogoobagooku."
The sweetheart laughs again.
"Aboo gabba deedoo," she says.
"Aboo gabba deedoo ba-doo."
