No Meaning Needed

Allegra and Brent discuss jibberish. 300-word flash

No Meaning Needed

“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Because it’s self-explanatory?” asked Allegra.
“No, it’s just jibberish,” Brent said.
“What does that mean?”
“Weren’t you an English major in college?”
“You know I was, that’s where we met.”
“Even jibberish must have a meaning to someone or something. For instance, I call my dog lots of silly names that just express my affection.”
“They don’t mean anything either,” Brent said.
“They do to my dog, they mean love.”
“So, all those pet names you have for me mean something?”
“Of course, they're my love language!”
“Why can’t your love language be plain unadulterated English?”
“What fun would that be, BeeBee?” answered Allegra.
“Stop that!
“I didn’t know it bothered you so much.”
“It doesn’t, at least not in private.”
“Okay, I’ll keep the pet names to a minimum, in public if you do something for me.”
“You got it!”
“Stop calling me Allie. I feel like I should be wearing rental shoes and making strikes.”
“Aww, Allie, I mean Allegra, what’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t bowl and I don’t want to bowl!”
Brent sighed. “Agreed,” he said as he took her hand.
“Now, what’s for dinner?”
“You’re cooking tonight, remember?” Allegra said.
“Let’s go out!”
“We’re trying to save for a house or condo. We can’t be going out every time it’s your turn to cook!”
“I hate cooking,” Brent complained.
“You think I want to cook everyday for the rest of our lives together?”
“Why not, at least you learned how!” Brent wheedled.
“Can’t learn if you don’t do,” Allegra came back with.
“Nothing wrong with breakfast for supper. You make a mean pancake after all!” she continued.
“I do, don’t I?” Brent replied.
Allegra smiled to herself and put her arm through his. Everything has meaning, even jibberish.