Just a silly, very short story...

You know what I’ve always wanted to do?

What?

Write an entire story using nothing but dialogue.

Sounds kinda boring.

It wouldn’t be boring. I don’t think. Hey, are you listening to him? He asked if you want cream.

Oh, yeah that’s fine. No, wait – milk. Nonfat. You have skim?

You’re gonna ruin a perfectly decent cup of Starbucks dark roast with skim milk? What’s the point?

Fine – you guys have whole milk? I’ll take whole milk. But no cream. No, wait – two percent. You don’t have two percent?

Just mix the whole and the skim – it’ll be good enough. Anyway, like I was saying, I’ve always wanted to write an entire story using nothing but dialogue.

Well, you’re the writer. I really wouldn’t know anything about that. Seems like you’d miss out on a lot of detail if all you wrote about was two people making small talk about, like, drinking coffee or whatever.

Who says it has to be about drinking coffee? That really WOULD be boring.

Okay, then what would these people be having a dialogue ABOUT, exactly?

Ouch, ouch! Burned my tongue. This is hot.

No kidding, Einstein. That’s why they put the warning on the cup.

No, they put the warning on the cup so I can’t run out and sue them for involuntary taste bud slaughter. Ow. Seriously, I don’t think I can taste anything now. Oh wow, thanks – since when did you get all chivalrous and start holding doors for women?

I’ve always been chivalrous. If you didn’t notice it’s because you don’t pay attention.

I don’t pay attention? Oh, that’s funny. That’s really funny. YOU on the other hand, are paying quite the amount of attention to that girl in the pink t-shirt.

What girl?

Oh puh-leeese. You think I don’t notice when you ogle other women?

Ogle? Ogle? I would never ogle anyone.

Really? Is that because you’re such a gentleman, or because you don’t know what the word “ogle” means?

I’m not an idiot. And I don’t ogle. Observe, perhaps.

And let me guess – your powers of observation are directly proportional to bra size.

That’s not fair – like you never look at other guys?

I might look… occasionally… but I just look. And then I look away. A quick look. A glance, perhaps. A glance and then a look-away.

And that makes you a better person because… ?

I didn’t say it made me a better person. Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Go ahead and ogle. Ogle all you want. Check out the blond walking the Chihuahua.

Ugh. Too Paris Hilton. I prefer someone a little more Salma Hayek. Maybe someone with a German Shepherd…

You’re such a liar.

It’s not a lie. Contrary to popular belief, not every guy in the universe has a thing for Paris Hilton.

I so do not believe you. You’re telling me that if you were stuck in an elevator with Paris Hilton, you wouldn’t—

Oh, elevators are a different story.

You’re such a jerk.

Well, I AM a man…

Glad to hear you take responsibility for it, at least.

We should get married.

Excuse me?

We should get married.

What are you— are you proposing?

I’m just saying… you know, it might be good. We should do it.

You’re proposing on a street corner with a cup of coffee in your hand?

Something wrong with that? Would you prefer I was holding a Coke can?

You’re seriously asking me to marry you while we’re standing here waiting for the light to change, across the street from a Paris Hilton lookalike?

Can you think of a better place?

Uh…

Hey, you know your story idea? The one about the dialogue? I think it’d be cool.

Really?

Yeah, really.

Okay.

Okay?

Yes.

Yes?

I’m saying yes, you Paris Hilton-ogling idiot.

Well, good. Now you have something to write about.