Those of us who were at school sufficiently long ago to have been taught grammar will enjoy this 🙂
A consonant walks into a bar and sits down next to a vowelly girl.
“Hi!” he says. “I’ll alphabet that you’ve never been here before.”
“Of cursive I have,” she replies. “I come here all the time. For me, it’s parse for the course.”
The consonant remains stationery, enveloped by the vowelly girl’s letter-perfect charm.
“Here’s a cute joke” he states declaratively. “Up at the North Pole, St. Nicholas is the main Claus. His wife is a relative Claus. His children are dependent Clauses. Their Dutch uncle is a restrictive Claus. And Santa’s elves are subordinate Clauses. As a group, they’re all renoun Clauses.”
Then he lays on some more dashes of humor: “Have you heard about the fellow who had half his digestive tract removed? He walked around with a semi-colon.”
“Are you prepositioning me?” asks the vowelly girl.
“I won’t be indirect. You are the object of my preposition. Your beauty phrase my nerves. Won’t you come up to my place for a coordinating conjunction?”
“I don’t want to be diacritical of you, but you’re such a boldfaced character!” replies the vowelly girl. “Do I have to
spell it out to you, or are you just plain comma-tose? You’re not my type, so get off my case!”
Despite his past perfect, he is, at present, tense.
“Puhleeze, gag me with a spoonerism!” she objects. “As my Grammar and other correlatives used to say, your mind is in the guttural. I resent your umlautish behavior. You should know what the wages of syntax are. I nominative absolutely decline to conjugate with you fer sure!”
“You get high quotation marks for that one,” he smiles, “even if I think you’re being rather subjunctive and moody about all this. I so admire your figure of speech that I would like to predicate my life on yours.” So he gets himself into an indicative mood and says, “It would be appreciated by me if you would be married to me.”
“Are you being passive aggressive?” she asks interrogatively.
“No, I’m speaking in the active voice. Please don’t have a vowel movement about this. I simile want to say to you, ‘Metaphors be with you!’ I would never want to change you and become a misplaced modifier. It’s imperative that you understand that I’m very, very font of you and want us to spend infinitive together.”
“That’s quite a compliment,” she blushes — and gives him appositive response.
At the ceremonies they exchange wedding vowels about the compound subject of marriage.
Finally, they say, “I do,” which is actually the longest and most complex of sentences — a run-on sentence, actually — one that we all hope won’t turn out to be a sentence fragment.
Then the minister diagrams that sentence and says, “I now pronouns you consonant and vowel.”
They kiss each other on the ellipsis and whisper to each other, “I love you, noun forever.”
Throughout their marriage, their structure is perfectly parallel and their verbs never disagree with their subjects.
After many a linking verve, comma splice and interjection, they conceive the perfect parent thesis. Then come some missing periods and powerful contractions, and into the world is born their beautiful little boy.
They know it is a boy because of its dangling participle.