Snip-Snip

I was at a birthday dinner last night. There were four couples, and me. We were eating steak and pasta. One of the men at the table is a neighbour of the host whom we met last year. At one point, he said he has three children. This is the snippet of conversation I remember.

Favourite Outrageous Friend, leaning into the table and waving her fork: Did you snip-snip?

Host's Neighbour, drinking his wine: After the last one I did.

Hostess, putting a forkful of salad in her mouth: I think all the men at this table have been snip-snipped.

All the wives looked around and nodded, including me, because I remember when each of the men got snipped.

Hostess, drinking her wine: We have to phone The Man to ask if he got snip-snipped.

Me, twirling pasta onto my fork: You don't have to phone him. I know if he got snip-snipped.

Hostess, putting a piece of steak in her mouth: So did he?

Me, wiping my mouth with a napkin: No, he doesn't do that stuff.

I resisted the urge to say, He's still complete and in tact.

Friend's Husband, in his best falsetto: We're all castrated men at this table.

Host's Neighbour: Hey, that makes us eunuchs.

Me: No, I think you actually have to remove stuff to qualify as eunuchs.

I love my friends because they are fun to be with and they're good talking snip-snip at the dinner table.