The misunderstood adventures of Irony.
Riddled with nothing but congruity.
I sat down to have a conversation with my old friend, Irony. We discussed the many misadventures and the legacy of its very existence.
“I’ve been misunderstood since I’ve been conceived”, said Irony.
“Sounds Ironic”, said I, to my dear friend — Irony.
We ordered a serving of freshly printed Merriam Webster,
“It’s too large, would you mind sharing?”, said Irony with a sense of sanity.
“I concur”, relieving Irony.
Your life must be tough — I thought of Irony.
Our friend Literally was meant to join us in this moment of harmony; later we learnt it died laughing, literally.
As we devoured our serving of Merriam Webster, I chose the first half as it looked less disingenuous.
“Hey look, I found you.” I said with a sense of encouragement.
“Literally?”, said a dishevelled Irony.
I explained the discovery to my friend, suffering a loss of identity.
“Do not be disappointed! Merriam got an entire website dedicated to you, dear friend!”, I implored a sense of hope to Irony.
Of course, Irony saw right through my miserable attempts; literally.
“Hey I wonder how Literally met its demise”, we thought as we munched on Sarcasm, Hubris, and Calamity.
“Calamity was the tastiest of all”, said Irony.
“Apparently, Literally met its demise literally laughing out loud at the sense of irony being misunderstood when its very purpose is to imply the opposite of congruity”, I informed a saddened Irony.
“Oh! What an irony”, said a smug Irony.
“I don’t like your attitude”, said I with a disgruntled tone.
“I hope you get hit by the very ambulance driving Literally to the crematorium, on your way home.”
“Wouldn’t that be ironic!”, said Irony.
Laughing out loud, we both died — Literally.
We’re still dead, Literally.
