Juan after another

jaun

I’m a big fan of puns. Almost from the time I could speak, I always enjoyed having fun with and words and manipulating them like a contortionist. If there was an opening, I turned it into a gaping hole. Why bother with a double entendre when a triple crown of wordsmithiness was within my tongue’s reach?

To wit (or not to wit; that is the question): A friend of mine once had notions (which the bubble over my head referred to as delusions) of opening up a teahouse of sorts where he would sell his (self-proclaimed “delicious”) cakes, pies and tarts. He had the entire place decorated (in his mind), replete with Louis (followed by any Roman numeral) furnishings. He wanted to call it “Marie Antoinette’s.”

Little did he realize that his desserts often required a hacksaw to slice them and his just desserts might come to him by way of a revolution rather than buzz or a stir. I happily suggested (in keeping with his theme) that he install a guillotine for dramatic visual effect to turn the act of slicing dessert into performance art and that he should instead name his establishment “Let Them Eat Cake.”

When he had this idea, the Cooking Channel was in its infancy and reality programs centered around culinary talent did not exist. He must have realized by now that he has no business opening up anything that has to do with baking. This is torte reform at its best.

While puns can often cause people to groan, I think of them as reliable tools for discovering just how clever (or funny) other people are. Volleying back and forth in writing allows for some time to develop quick, witty banter. Being able to cut through the waters freestyle-mode and engage in it verbally separates the men from buoys.

Which leads me to my friend Juan. He came by the other day and introduced me to his friend Juan. Without stating the obvious, let’s just say there is a little pursuit going on between them.

I now refer to them as Juan after another.

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