I sCREAM

One of those past hot and humid nights, I decided to have some ice cream. Being how TLW (The Little Woman) was sitting next to me, I asked her if she wanted anything. She said no, so off to the frig I go, with happy thoughts of butter pecan ice cream, sitting in my bowl.

Coming back, I start to eat the joy of ice cream, when TLW gets out of her chair and goes into the kitchen. I hear what sounds like a lot of rustling going on, on the countertop, and a clank into the sink. Returning into the den, she asks: “How is the ice cream?”
“GOOD!” I reply. Simple question, requires a simple answer.

Finishing up the dish of three scoops, I return to the kitchen and put the dish in the dishwasher, when I notice a spoon with the residue of ice cream in it. “Hmmmm, I don’t remember that spoon there before!” I think to myself. So I decide to ask a simple question. “Toots, how was the ice cream?”
Her response is as follows:

“IonlyhadtwospoonfulsnotawholedishofthreescopeslikesomeoneIknow!”
“But I only asked how it was!”
“Youwereaskingbecauseyouhadthreescoopsandfeltguilty!”
“But you asked me the same question, I just wanted a good or no good as an answer!”
“Ohdon’tgivemethat!”
“Good, or not, not a whole dissertation on my ice cream habits would have been enough!”
“OKGOODYOUHAPPY?”
“You really shouldn’t talk in run on letters, it will be very hard to read on the blog.”