Chattin with Paps and Gram Gram

Old married people have been together so long that they have no idea what to talk about anymore.  This morning I was having breakfast at a diner, just chillin, reading the paper, discussing major movie roles with my agent via cell phone.  Ya know, the usual.  Well anyway, behind me was this absolutely ancient couple, and their “conversation” was an exercise in tortuous tedium.  Here is an excerpt:

Paps: What did she say? (coughs up phlegm)

GramGram: She said the flavored coffee today is hazelnut cream.

Paps: Huh?

GramGram: Hazelnut cream.

Paps: Everything on here is fancy. (wheezes)

GramGram: Well, they have french toast.

Paps: I don’t like their french toast.  Why doesn’t anyone make regular french toast anymore?  (coughs up phlegm)

GramGram: How about a nice Belgian waffle?

Paps: No, I like regular waffles. (coughs up little flecks of his lung)

GramGram: Will someone please shoot me in the face?

OK, so she didn’t say that last thing, but if she was thinking it could you have really blamed her?  These two had so little remaining to talk about after their 140 years together that even after they ordered, GramGram clung to the menu like a favorite security blanket, reading menu items aloud to her Scroogy husband as if she were reading a passage from Balzac or Flaubert.

It’s scary too, because my wife and I have been together for 13 years and married for 7, and we’ve ALL READY started running out of shit to say to each other.  Why, just this morning I had to drive her to work, and during the entire trip we didn’t say one word to each other, instead communicating via small grunts and gestures reminiscent of Cro-Magnon man (true story).

I can just see us at age 80, when our typical conversation will probably go something like this:

DonkeyPaps: Hm

GramGram Donk: Hm

DonkeyPaps: Urg

GramGram Donk: Urg?

DonkeyPaps: Yeah, Urg.

GramGram Donk: Hm.

DonkeyPaps: Wanna do it?

GramGram Donk: Nope.

It’s comforting to know that some things, at least, will never change.