Immediately, we drove into a speed zone, and the pissed passer had to slow down. “Haha!” I crowed. “That’s what you get, asswipe!”
Mother said, “Don’t say that; that’s ugly.”
“Oh, sorry,” I apologized. Then, to the pissy passer, “That’s what you get, asshat!”
Mother said, “Don’t say ass things; that’s ugly.”
Months later at Christmastime, my daughter Camille and I were lamenting the lameness of the lyrics in “Do You Hear What I Hear?” Specifically, we took exception to the line “A child, a child shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold.” (Sorry. I realize it will be stuck in your head now.)
We agreed that silver and gold were stupid gifts for a freezing newborn and his befuddled mother. I suggested the substitution, “Let us bring him blankets and hot soup”, but I admitted the timing was off. And it didn’t rhyme at all.
Camille offered, “Let us bring him blankets and coal.” Like for a fire. Makes sense. But it didn’t EXACTLY rhyme. And I pointed that out.
“It’s asonance,” Camille declared.
To which I replied… Yes, I did… “Don’t say ass things; that’s ugly.”