Page 62 of Flirtasaurus
“Huh?”
“You said your high school teacher for-BADE you from using the word cute. It’s spelled forbade, but actually pronounced forbad.”
“No shit!”
“Yes shit.”
“Wow. Thank you for setting me straight. Ignorance is the enemy. Anyway, in conclusion, cute is diminutive. It’s denigrating. It’s disparaging.”
“You sound like a thesaurus. Ooh. Thesaurus. That sounds like one of your dinos, doesn’t it? The-Saurus? Get it?”
“Aren’t you too young and childless for dad jokes?”
“I’m older than you are, and who says I don’t have kids?”
“Oh, I’m sorry! That was really… Gosh, how many kids do you have?” I try to sound supportive.
“I’m messing with you.” He bursts out with that happy throaty chuckle thing he does again. “I don’t have any children.”
“Oh. Good.” Why do I sound so relieved?
“That I know of, of course.”
“Of course,” I say snidely. “For the record, your dad joke needs some work. A dino called The-Saurus really gives you no information about her. The-Saurus basically breaks down to The Lizard or The Reptile. And they were all reptiles of some sort. So, what kind of reptile are we talking about here? If you’re going for a dino who loves language, then Lingua-saurus would be a way more evocative and effective choice for a name.”
“Calliope, it was a dumb joke. I was just trying to relate to you on a subject I know very little about. I left my dino days back in preschool.”
“You and most of the population. So sad. Why do people stop learning about these beauties? It’s such fascinating stuff!Alright, check this out. Tyrannosaurus Rex breaks down to Tyrant Lizard King. Triceratops means Three Horned Face. Velociraptor means Speed Thief. And Archaeopteryx means Ancient Feather. How rad is that? You just hear the names and instantly know what kind of creatures you’re dealing with. God, Greek and Latin are so comforting. And such fucking turn-ons.”
“Are they, though?”
“YES!Mr. MacMaster taught us Latin freshman year of high school.”
“You took Latin in high school?
“Yup. All girls’ private Catholic academy. The Catholics love their Latin. In a sea of disapproving nuns, there stood manly Mr. MacMaster like a sex beacon, wearing his button-up oxford and his pleated khakis and smelling like Polo Sport. I was glued to his lessons. Fell in love with words. Aced every test. There are just so many words in the English language, so we should choose to use the ones we actually mean, don’t you think? Kills me how people just throw meaningless words around without any thought.”
A few hours later—yes, a fewhourslater—we’re still on the phone, and we’ve gotten a little loopy. At least I have.
“… yeah, my left boob is bigger than my right. Drives me nuts. I used to pad the right to match the left during high school, but that gets complicated. Oh damn, I said boob. I’m trying to say breast instead since boob sounds so juvenile. But breast sounds like I’m trying to be all highbrow about the sacks of flesh on my chest, and that just isn’t me. I always feel like I’m playing a role when I say breast.”
“What kind of role?”
“Like I’m a Russian spy in a sexy novel set on a yacht with lots of high-speed boat chases?”
“That’s quite specific.”
“I guess.”
“Well, if it helps at all, my left nut hangs lower than the right.”
“That does help, actually! Thank you for sharing that. You know the other thing about the word boob that burns me?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s synonymous with idiot.”
“Is it?”
