Farmer’s wife: Give me that shovel.
Farmer: It’s a pitchfork.
Farmer’s wife: It’s not flattering to pose with.
Farmer: Who cares?
Farmer’s wife: I’m embarrassed to stand near you with a shovel.
Farmer: pitchfork.
Farmer’s wife: It’s ugly. You’ll look like the devil.
Farmer: Then move. Let me stand alone.
Farmer’s wife: This is a family portrait. And this belonged to my father. He built it.
Farmer: Don’t start that tale again.
Farmer’s wife: You were just a simple worker on our farm.
Farmer: And you were just an ugly red-headed girl.
Farmer’s wife: And you fell in love with me.
Farmer: I thought it was the other way around.
Farmer’s wife: Really? Who was singing outside my window then?
Farmer: I was not singing. I was reading a book to myself.
Farmer’s wife: Outside of my window?
Farmer: You were so stupid back then. You haven’t changed much.
Farmer’s wife: How dare you?
Farmer: Forty years and you still don’t know the difference between a shovel and a pitchfork.
Farmer’s wife: I can take your eyes out with that pitchfork.
Farmer: There, now you will look angry and I’ll look handsome.
Farmer’s wife: You’ll look stupid and I’ll look like I’m laughing at you and your shovel.
Farmer: Pitchfork.
