A fork is a fork

A little window of how things get along in the Oung/Gauvin household. Be grateful that you only have to read my blog. This guy has to live with me.

Gene: I'm off to drop off stuff for the tag sale at Mary's. Anything else you want me to take?

Angelica: If you don't mind, see if you can fit that fork over there.

Gene: What? (Gene is looking right at a garden fork leaned against a wall)

Angelica: The fork...it's...right...there. Right in front of you.

Gene: What...you mean the pitchfork.

Angelica: That's what I said. The fork.

Gene: No. That's not a fork. It's a pitchfork.

Angelica: Which is a kind of fork.

Gene: Not the kind we usually mean in a Western, non-agricultural context.

Angelica: Bah. I reject your occidental anti-agrarian forkism. Does it not have tines?

Gene: (sarcastic) If you leave us out in the rain, do we not rust?