“Check and see the oven inside.”
“Something in the oven there is.”
“…wait, what? What did I say?”
“Something along the lines of, ‘Do or do not, there is no try.’ Don’t worry, I speak C. fluently.”
– C. and J.
I swear I have a speech problem, and not just Foot-In-Mouth disease (a tragic, incurable illness wherein the sufferer is constantly choking on their own stupidity and awkwardness). I frequently speak in Spoonerisms.
I blame Dad. He has a bit of a goofy sense of humor, and one of the things he finds most funny is to switch up words. Depending on how much sleep the siblings have had, our response to this can vary from a pity-chuckle to uproarious laughter. So when Mika misbehaves and Dad sighs, “Dupid sog,” accompanied by a Dad Face, we will probably all find it pretty funny.
The irony is that I can’t make a Spoonerism off the top of my head the way Dad can. But, without even trying, I CAN completely rearrange a sentence into one that utterly defies logic and grammar. In fact, I do it quite regularly.
More’s the pity for me, J. is just as quick as my Dad in the comebacks. Curses.