by PeggySue Wells @PeggySueWells
Bulldozed by illness, I went to see the doctor.
“You have acute bronchitis,” the doctor diagnosed.
“As opposed to an ugly one?” I asked.
“Acute means ugly,” the doctor explained.
“Then why not call it that?”
“You’re feverish.” The doctor penned a prescription on a medical pad.
“Actually,” piped up my 12-year-old, “she does that to words. Don't ask her about asphalt.”
“Asphalt?” The doctor looked at me expectantly.
“Street language for constipation,” I outlined.
The doctor handed me the paper. “Get this prescription filled immediately. It’s the strongest antibiotic I’ve got.”
For wordsmiths, word play is second nature and fun. Such as forming oxymorons.
