Tongue Tangled

Several years ago, my husband had a little (let me put this gently) digestive tract trouble. He was in need of fiber or something along those lines.

He and I along with our son had gone to a nearby town for a movie and a little shopping. Afterwards, we decided to take a different route home. We like to vary the scenery occasionally. We were jamming to the tunes and all was well. We had driven four or five miles on our alternate course when all of a sudden, my husband threw up his hands in disgust and exclaimed “Well, heck! I forgot to buy some of that stuff that my sister told me about.”

I asked, “What are you talking about?”

He said, “You know, that stuff.”

“No, I don’t. What stuff? For what? Which sister?”

Very agitated, he replied, “You know, that Oodamussel that Corky told me about.”

“No, I don’t know that Oodamussel. What is it for?”

“It’s a laxative or something. Oodamussel. . . or whatever it’s called.”

Using my deductive reasoning, I quickly deciphered that since Corky is a nurse and that he was requesting a laxative that he must be mispronouncing the name of the product. So, being the smart alec that I am, I quizzed him, “Do you mean Metamucil?”

“Yeah, Metamucil, Oodamussel, whatever it’s name. I wish I hadn’t forgotten to buy some of it.”

You can figure the rest. I laughed until I lost my breath and tears streamed down my face. Every time I think of it, I chuckle all over again. Needless to say, no one in the family will ever let him live his tangled tongue twister down. We remind him frequently.