“can you guffaw?” he asks
  quite seriously. “i mean really,
  what the hell is a guffaw?”

a hearty, boisterous burst of
  laughter, i answer.

“thank you webster, but
  like, who guffaws anymore?”
  he continues, a beer in
  one hand, a pretzel in
  the other, trying to sound
  intelligent despite his
  slurred speech.

i would, were this discussion
  any more ridiculous…

jackass, i reply.

“does anyone even say
  guffaw anymore?”

apparently this is not
  something which he
  is ready to let go of.

he takes another long
  chug from his bottle,
  furrows his brow whilst
  munching on his salty
  snack, and says;
  "Guffawed." with purpose.
  then; “Guffawing. Oh,
  that’s a good one. Guff -
  a -wing. Say it slowly
  with me… it sounds
  so weird. Guffa - wing.”

he snorts and continues
  for some time conjugating
  the verb.

sometimes being the
  designated driver can be
  so much more fun than
  drinking.

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