Grandma Betty, bless her heart, always had a… unique understanding of the world. One Tuesday, she called me, practically vibrating with excitement. “Darling,” she shrieked, “I’ve found him! My war bride!”
Now, Grandma Betty hadn’t been to war, nor had she ever been a bride during one. But that didn’t stop her from misunderstanding an online dating profile she’d stumbled upon. Turns out, “WB enthusiast” wasn’t shorthand for “War Bride,” but “Warner Brothers enthusiast.”
“He’s called Barry,” she continued, breathlessly. “He loves Bugs Bunny! And he’s coming for tea tomorrow! You must come, darling, and make sure I don’t say anything… untoward.”
The next day, Barry arrived. He was a kind-looking man in a Looney Tunes t-shirt, clutching a vintage Bugs Bunny lunchbox. Grandma Betty, meanwhile, was wearing her finest floral dress and a string of pearls she usually reserved for funerals.
“Barry,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “tell me, what were your… postings like? Difficult, I imagine?”
Barry looked confused. “Postings? You mean like… on the ACME fan forum?”
Grandma Betty leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “No, dear! The front line! The trenches! Did you ever have to… you know… defuse a situation with a well-placed banana peel?”
Barry choked on his tea. “I… I once had a heated debate about whether Daffy Duck was funnier than Porky Pig,” he stammered.
The afternoon descended into glorious chaos. Grandma Betty grilled Barry about his military service (his dedication to collecting vintage animation cels), his comrades (fellow cartoon enthusiasts), and the horrors he’d witnessed (the discontinuation of Looney Tunes on Saturday mornings).
Finally, as Barry was leaving, looking thoroughly bewildered, Grandma Betty patted his hand and said, “Thank you, Barry. You’ve clearly seen things I couldn’t possibly imagine. But tell me… did you ever think of marrying the enemy?”
Barry blinked. “Well, I did once date a huge Mickey Mouse fan…”
