“Izzy, did you hear about Jesse?”
“You mean the guy at the end in the east wing?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“What about him?”
“He died last night. He had a fatal fart attack.”
“What’d you say Ike?”
“Huh? I mean a fatal heart attack.”
“You said ‘fart attack.’”
“Well, knowing Jesse…”
“That’s like saying ‘I Left My Fart in San Francisco.’”
“’Your Cheatin’ Fart.’”
“’Tell It to My Fart.’”
“Isn’t that by Taylor somebody?”
“Swift. What about ‘The Fart Is a Lonely Hunter’?”
“Here’s a good one: ‘My Fart Will Go On.’”
“Who sang that?”
“Somebody Dion.”
“Dion and the Belmonts?”
“Maybe.”
Silence.
More silence.
“Did you hear about Jesse?”
“The old guy in the east wing?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“What about him?”
“He died last night. He had a fatal fart attack.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I heard that somewhere.”

***

“Izzy, I heard a song on the radio this morning. A really stupid one.”
“What was so stupid about it?”
“They was calling each other food names.”
“Food names?”
“Yeah. I am the eggplant. You are the eggplant. I am the walnut.”
“Ike, did you have your hearing aid turned off again?”
“These kids’ music today really stinks.”
“That’s not a kids’ group. That’s The Beatles, they’re older than you.”
Silence.
Silence.
“It’s still a stupid song,”

***

“Hey, Ike. Check out Shinaynay. She’s having a bad hair day.”
“I’d just like to have a hair day.”

***

“Izz, what’s an ‘add hominy’ argument?”
“What are you talking about, Isaac?”
“Why you calling me Isaac?”
“That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“I thought it was Ike?”
“That’s your nickname?”
“My name’s not Nick.”
“Never mind. What were you talking about?”
“Huh? I can’t remember. Oh, I was watchin’ Fox and they said the President made a hominy argument and I thought they were talking about a recipe.”
“I’m guessing they were saying he made an ad hominem argument.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s when you can’t answer a question’s content so you attack the character of the person who says it. It’s also translated as ‘against the man.’”
“Then why don’t they just say that?”

***

“Izzy, you better watch out for Lester.”
“Why?”
“He’s running around giving everybody the stink eye.”
“Don’t you mean ‘pink’ eye? That’s something that you can catch from someone.”
“No, man. He’s just pissed at everybody.”
***
Say, Iz, have you seen the memo on the bulletin board?”
“What about it?”
“It says they are opening a soap kitchen.”
“A what?”
“A soap kitchen.”
“That’s not right. They must mean a soup kitchen.”
“Look, that’s not what it says here.”
“Damn, Ike, you’re right. It must be a typo.”
“I don’t know. There’s a lot of stinky people in here.”

***

“My friend Isadore, I’ve got a conundrum for you.”
“Is that on your ‘Word of the Week’ calendar?”
“Well, yes, but this is a problem with another song. I was listening the oldies station and I heard this song by Paul something.”
“Paul McCartney?”
“No, I think his name was Young. Anyway, he was singing ‘Every time you go away, take a piece of meat.’ I thought that might come in handy.”
“It’s ‘me.’”
“What?”
“The word is ‘me’ not ‘meat.’ It’s ‘Every time you go away, take a piece of me.’”
“That doesn’t make sense. At least you could eat the ‘meat.’”

***

“Speaking of food Ike, why have you started eating so many bananas lately?”
“My doctor says my plutonium is too low.”
“Your what?”
“My plutonium.”
“Don’t you mean your potassium?”
“What’s the difference?”

***

“Say, Izzy. How come we didn’t get no mail today?”
“Because it’s a holiday, Ike.”
”What holiday?”
“It’s Martin Luther King Day. You know who he is, don’t you?”
“I think so. Didn’t he nail 95 feces to a door?’
“No, Dummy. It was 95 theses. T-H-E-S-E-S.”
“What’s a theses?”
“Beats me. I think it’s like a book you write to get a college degree.”
“And he nailed 95 of those to a door?”
“I guess so.”
“Wow! I’ve never written anything longer than a grocery list.”
“Yes, he must have been very smart.”
“Dam skippy.”
“Ike, you’re 82 years old. That’s not a phrase that should be in your vocabulary.”
“Fa shizzle.”
“That’s the dumbest thing ever said in the history of the human mouth.”

***

“Izzy, you know Granelda Grunch?”
“The ex-college teacher?”
“Yeah. I’m pissed at her.”
“Why?”
“I was havin’ a serious conversation about politics and…”
“You’re serious about politics?”
“Damn straight. Voted for Trump five times. Anyways, I says: We don’t have a very civil society anymore. And she says: Look at you Ike, using a homophone. I says: I ain’t against no gays and why should I be against no phones. She just shook her head and says: a double negative, and walks away. So I’m pissed.”
“Ike, I’m not even going to try to explain that conversation to you.”

***

“Hey Izz, how do you play Thorns?”
“Play what, Ike?”
“Thorns.”
“Is that a game?”
“I don’t know. I watched this dumb show last night about a bunch of Mad Max wannabees runnin’ around fighting with swords. Not once did I see them play with thorns.”
“It’s not ‘thorns, dodo, it’s ‘Thrones.’ The Game of Thrones. They’re all fighting to rule the kingdom.”
“Then why don’t they call it Game of Swords?”
“I don’t know Ike.”
“And why do they say ‘S-O-R-D-S’ when they spell it ‘S-W-O-R-D-S’?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you call them and ask?”
“Okay. You got their number?”
“Look it up in the phone book.”
“Under ‘Thrones’?”
“Try ‘Thorns.’”

***

“Ike, you still drinkin’ all that diet pop?”
“Sure am.”
“How many?”
“’Bout seven or eight a day.”
“I saw on CNN today that you’ll get Alzheimer’s by drinkin’ so much pop out of a metal can.”
“So, what’ll I care? I’ll have Alzheimer’s.”
***
“Did you hear about the fat woman who backed into a fan?”
“No, what about her?”
“Disassed her.”
Sure, it was a disaster for the fan.”
No, DIS-assed her.”
Silence.
“I don’t think a fan can do that.”

***

“Ike, you wanna hear a Knock Knock joke?”
“Is it dirty?”
“It could be.”
“It’s not ‘Argo’ is it?”
“No. You start.”
“OK, Knock! Knock!”
“Who’s there?”

***

“Hey Izzy. You hear where Emily and Latilla are going for summer vacation?”
“No, where?”
“Trinidad and Tobacco.”
“Trinidad and what?”
“Tobacco.”
“Ike, you old fool. Everybody knows it’s Trinidad and Tabasco. That’s where they grow the hot sauce.”
“Oh. It’s a good thing I got you around Izz.”

***

“Ike, did you see the new couple who moved into Jesse’s old room?”
“No. Who are they?”
“Their names are Harry and Tippy Toez.”
“Harry Toes?”
“T-O-E-Z.”
“And Tippy?”
Silence.
More silence.
“Are they dancers?”
“No, I think they’re Baptists.”
“Ike, I think your mind is an attic with limited storage.”