Mr. Peevie and I were both futzing around in the bathroom the other day, and I was looking at my astonishingly attractive reflection in the mirror.
"I think I look a lot like the Cowardly Lion," I said. "Do you think so?"
The correct answer, as you might guess, would be an immediate negative: "No, honey, of course not. You're beautiful." But my lawfully wedded husband, my constant friend, my faithful partner, who has too much integrity for his own good, did not take the safe route.
"Hold on a sec," he said, "Let me get my glasses."
Oh, I held on a sec, all right. And another, and another.
Then: "You have to get your glasses in order to tell whether I look like the Cowardly Lion or not?" I asked, not quite believing that our marriage had survived 25+ years.
"Well, I can't see a thing!" he said, digging himself in deeper.
"Think about it, dear," I said, patiently-but-with-an-edge. "I'm asking you if I look like the Cowardly Lion. The COWARDLY LION."
"Oh," he said, penitently. "No, of course not." Good boy.
"But wait!" I said, changing the rules, as I am allowed to do, thus keeping Mr. Peevie off-balance and on the defensive (an excellent marital tactic for you newlyweds out there), "look at this!" I put on my best Cowardly Lion face. "Now look!" He looked.
"OH!" he exclaimed. "OH! HAHAHAHA!"
"See?" I said, "I DO look like the Cowardly Lion!"
At this point, Mr. Peevie was so confused that he walked out of the bathroom and mixed himself a dirty martini.
But what do you think? Vote in the comments. Does it look like the Cowardly Lion and I were separated at birth?