"Beg your pardon?"
"We all need a fake laugh! You know, if you had to pretend that you thought something was funny, when you didn't really think it was funny - what kind of laugh would you have? Would it be... you know... (she trills) "Heee-heeee-heeee-heeee-heeee... or... (she brays) "AW-HAW-HAW-HAW-HAW-HAW..." or (she snorts) "Giggle-giggle-snort-giggle..." or (she blarts) "Huh! HUUUUUUHH! Huh-huh-huh..." or... (she machine guns) "Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh..."
I shoot her a look.
"My brain just thinks of these things. Sometimes I even confuse myself. I'm saying this because so and so's brother laughed and I honestly thought it was a fake laugh. I laughed because his laugh was so ridiculous. And that got me to thinking. You have to have a fake laugh. Just in case. You know, for emergencies."
"I'd have to go for the Katharine Hepburn/Philadelphia Story laugh."
She looked dumbfounded. Dear GOD, she didn't know who Katharine Hepburn was. I had failed her as a parent. She'd never seen The Philadelphia Story. She didn't understand the brilliance of casting Cary Grant, Jimmy Steward and Katharine Hepburn as the three corners in a near-perfect screwball comedy triangle. It was then I made a solemn vow to educate her, as we should all educate our children in classic cinema - we shall batten down the hatches and make a weekend of it.
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