My Conversation With Stan

My Buddy Stan called.

Given the late hour, I didn’t beat around the bush. “What do you want?”

“Who says I want anything​?”

“You wouldn’t call if you didn’t want something.”

“Maybe I just wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Why does it have to be about something? Maybe it’s just about talking.”

“Okay then, talk.”





“Uh, Stan?”


“If you want to talk, talk.”

“But that’s not talking. That’s just me talking.”

“You mean you want to converse?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Okay then, converse.”

“No, you got to do it too or it is just me talking.”

“But Stan, what do you think we are doing now?”


“That’s right, we’re talking.”

As he hung up, I heard him yell across the house. “Okay Daphne, you said I had to talk to Greg and I did. Now are you happy?”


A few minute later, Daphne called.

“Thanks for talking to him, Greg, it really helps.”

“But we didn’t say anything,” I protested.

“You don’t really have to say anything to talk.”




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