The Colonel made the grave error the other day of asking the comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda for her unvarnished critique of the lucidity, efficacy, and interest of his regularly irregular posts hereon.
The Colonel's Lady not only laid off the varnish, but the sandpaper as well.
How rough was it? Well, it was so uncomfortable that the only reason he didn't immediately vacate her immediate presence was because the Colonel was driving.
He briefly considered exiting the vehicle while on the bridge over the Tallahatchie, but that song's already been written.
The criticism from the Colonel's favorite person in all the world wasn't so much like a sharp stick in the eye...; it was more like multiple thrusts of a rapier under his ribs. The Colonel was faced with the choice to either face it like a man, or respond like a little girl.
"...tedious, infantile, sophomoric, redundant," the comely and suddenly, shockingly not-so-kind-hearted Miss Brenda paused twenty minutes into her caustically cruel critique, "Hey, are you crying?!? Oh, for goodness sake; Man-Up!"
"Ye, ye, ye, yes, dear," the Colonel stammered between sobs.
"And, another thing," the Colonel's Lady continued, "this bit about 'the three dozen who waste rod and cone time reading your posts...'"
"You mean," the Colonel sniffed and corrected, "'the three dozen or so of you who regularly waste valuable rod and cone time perusing posts hereon...'?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah; whatever. Hate it."
"But that's one of the Colonel's signature catch phrases," the Colonel whined.
"And, quit referring to yourself in the third person around me. Hate that, too!"
The comely and suddenly, shockingly, not-so-kind-hearted Miss Brenda was not only repeatedly ramming her rapier under his ribs, but was violently twisting said repeatedly-rammed-rapier at the hilt-deep conclusion of each thrust.
"But, but, dear," the Colonel defended, "self-deprecation is one of the Colonel's most cherished literary devices."
"Well," the Colonel's Lady retorted, "I don't like anyone deprecating on my hubby; not even my own hubby."
The Colonel thought she might be confusing deprecation with defecation and briefly considered delivering a short lecture regarding the fine art of differentiating the two.
But, then again, she probably already knows the difference -- she's (new Colonel's Lady-approved signature catch phrase to follow) one of the thousands of erudite, discriminating, and culturally conscious readers who closely follow and appreciatively drink up the literary libations provided here at the Colonel's Corner.