“What’s got you so bummed out?” Joe asked his brother.
“Death, man. Death of an idea. A personal friend. Freedom. And when freedom dies, what’s left to live for?” complained Grant.
“Why do you always have to be so cryptic? Speak so people outside your head can understand.”
“Fine. Canada, in it’s infinite wisdom, decided to drop the penny. With it dies the colloquialism ‘giving my two cents worth’. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Yes, thank you. Was that so hard? I just thought of something. ‘Penny for your thoughts’ dies, too,” said Joe.
Grant sighed. “It’s a symbol of the demise of independent thought in the modern world.”
“So, losing two dumb old sayings is a symbol?”
“Are you being sardonic?”
“I have no idea,” said Joe, blankly.
“How could you not know?”
“I don’t know what sardonic means.”
“Fair enough,” said Grant.
“So, are you going to tell me what it means?”
“It’s like sarcastic.”
“Then why not say that?”
“I was attempting to be precise,” said Grant, arrogantly.
“You were trying to be a word snob.”
“Perhaps to someone who lacks the understanding of the nuance of language.”
“Oh, I’ll give you some precision. I’ll tell you exactly where to go. Keep it up and I’ll give you the nuance to get there.”
“Once again, you are obsequious with your feral tendencies. Just like when we were children,” said Grant.
Joe replied with a right cross to Grant’s jaw.
“And once again, you’re too smart for your own good,” said Joe.
Grant caressed his cheek and looked up a Joe with tears in his eyes. Joe towered over him with clenched fists.
“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Joe.
“I think the two cents I’ve given were plenty,” replied Grant.
Joe smiled. “See? Freedom isn’t dead after all.”