“Do you think we’ll ever manage to get married?” I asked the soldier. “I wonder sometimes if it will ever be possible.”
“Well yeah we’ll get married. I’m willin’,’ he said.
“Willin? You’re willin?” I started singing, Little Feat, “If you give me weed, whites and wine….” I belted it out. “I’ll be willin’! To be married!”
“No, now come on P. Just cause I don’t have any fancy words like you do – HORRIFIC (a word he thinks I overuse / misuse) … doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”
He blushed. “Okay, how about this. Let me think of something. Let me think…”
I stared at him from the other end of the hall the way Dora does. “You can’t do it. You can’t think of a word,” I said in challenge.
“Yes I can! How about this. Let’s get married. Let’s get married, 110%… though I be the lone survivor!” he said with eye wide and grinning.
Recognizing the Ranger Creed, I decided that was pretty good – so off the hook he came.