The other night, Francesca* and I were making foccacia.
“Have I ever told you the one about the 2000 year old bread?” I asked her.
“No,” she replied, looking suspicious.
“You don’t want to hear it – it’s STALE,” I said, giving her something to CHEW on. Seeing her look rather DEFLATED, I added, “That pun kind of went A-RYE, didn’t it?”
“At YEAST you’re getting a RISE out of me,” she replied, angrily.
“That’s kind of CUTTING remark,” I SLICED back. “This is just something I do when I’m LOAFING around.”
“That’s a good way of separating the WHEAT from the CHAFF,” she shot back, referring to me as the chaff.
“It’s just a way of getting you BUTTERED UP for my better material,” I said, trying not to EAT my words.
Do you think that this is a HALF-BAKED series of puns? Or do you appreciate them as TASTY MORSELS, an indication that I’m engaged in the world? Do I KNEAD to go on?
*Not her real name.