“She didn't say it, I only thought she said it. So really it was my thought, my words, and not hers. How could I confuse "I love you" with "May I take your order?”

“She said “I love you,” and I said the only thing I could say: “How about every other Tuesday?”

“I thought she was older than she was, and I thought she was younger than she was. She looked older, but she acted younger, so no matter what her age was, I was surprised by it.”

“She was in a coma, and had been unresponsive for years. Every Tuesday I’d visit her and read to her, and as I’d leave I’d always say, “I love you,” as I’d kiss her on her forehead. One day as I was leaving, I said my normal I love you and kissed her, when her eyes popped open, she looked directly into my eyes, smiled, and then she said, “Spaghetti for brains albino idea weasel.” And that was when I stabbed her with a piece of garlic toast. It seemed like the most appropriate response. The police didn’t seem to agree, and I could tell by the way they bagged the evidence in a To Go box that they thought I was the lowest of the low, lower perhaps than even a politician. Well, not quite that low, but certainly with the cockroaches, vultures, and aids-infested vampires.”

“My eyes were blurry from being in love, and my feelings were as furry as Bigfoot. I thought I spotted Her, the women of my dreams, but the other cryptozoologists thought I was hallucinating. They chided me saying, “If there is no picture, there is no proof.”

“She says he says, but she could be lying to me, and he could be lying to her, so I can’t believe her, even if I could believe her.”

“I have a recognition dance, to acknowledge that I heard and understood you. So when Savannah says she loves me, and I reply by doing the Charleston, I’m just trying to show my love for her.”