Balustrade Teeth Debate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Ooh, this place is nice,’ I whistled, as the real estate agent led us into the foyer of the brand new home. ‘Honey, check out this tiling.’

         ‘Uh-huh,’ my girlfriend sighed, beaten down by the four other listings we’d looked at already this afternoon. ‘Sure is nice tiling.’

         I smiled at her, trying to lift her spirit slightly, and she flashed me a weak smile back.

         ‘Now,’ the realtor went on, arms spread wide and teeth sparkling like the sun. ‘This is a lovely example of modern staircase design, with this unique glass balustrade feature that will be sure to make you the envy of your friends—’

         ‘Why would we want that?’ my wife frowned.

         ‘What’s that now?’ the realtor asked, thrown off balance by the interruption to her script.

         ‘Why would we want our friends to be jealous of us?’ my wife pressed her. ‘That sounds awful. Especially over something like a glass staircase balustrade? Quote me, if you like – nobody actually wants that.’

         ‘Oh,’ the realtor said, confused but still smiling (a combination that reminded me of a deer that had just been hit by a car). ‘Noted. Shall we go on?’

         ‘You’re not going to break the balustrade, are you?’ I whispered jokingly in my wife’s ear, as the realtor prattled on ahead of us. ‘Because I really don’t know if we can afford the Melbourne glass repair prices.’

         ‘No,’ she smirked. ‘I might break her though. Those teeth.’

         ‘Those are expensive teeth,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I’m not sure we could afford them either.’

         ‘Then you’ll have to hold me back.’

         ‘I’m not going to hold you back.’

         ‘Then it’s up to fate now.’

         We burst into giggles, like school children on a field trip, and were immediately brought to task by a disapproving glare from the realtor.

         ‘Something I can help you with?’ she asked, curtly.

         ‘Oh, uh… no. Thank you,’ I added hurriedly. ‘Say, is that a butler’s pantry?’

         ‘It is, actually!’ she beamed, lighting up again and herding us towards the kitchen. I slipped my wife a sly wink.