Life of Riley: We are all reconciled

We are all reconciled

I reckon I'm pretty much reconciled.

— You do?

Yep. I'm much more reconciled than I was last week.

— That's great. But I have a question.

Shoot.

— What is there to be reconciled about?

Where have you been? Reconciliation is all the go. I'm reconciled. You're reconciled. We are all reconciled. Oh, it's just lovely. Brings a tear to my eye it does. Give me a hug.

— Please!

I love you. I do.

— You're getting carried away.

Sorry.

— I should think so.

I am. I'm ever so sorry.

— That's OK.

I'm trooly and rooly sorry.

— No harm done.

It's all my fault. Can you ever forgive me.

— It's OK!

I apologise.

— Fine.

Is that all you can say? "Fine"?

— What do you want me to say?

If it's not too much to ask, maybe you could accept my apology?

— OK then.

Well?

— I accept your apology.

Now we're reconciled.

— We are?

Yes we are. Now we can move on.

— Great.

You wouldn't by chance be Aboriginal would you?

— No.

Not even the teeniest?

— Sorry. No.

What a pity. Because if you were I could reconcile with you and you could reconcile with me and it would be like the real thing.

— But you just told me you were sorry.

Ah, I was only practicing.

BY DAVE RILEY
<http://www.ozemail.com.au/~dhell>

From GLW issue 407