She Who Laughs Worst

Caitlin and I were out at a crowded pub in the city. I was lettin' the hijinks fly fast, and she was diggin' my groove.

I forgot precisely what I said, but all at once, she put her hand to her mouth, shut her eyes tight, and jerked backward.

I asked, "Caitlin? Are you okay?"

This wasn't choking or any sort of death spasm. I could've been fine with that. No. This was the wind up. And here's the pitch:

She was preparing a monster laugh. She inhaled sharply, opened her mouth, and the sound that emerged could best be described as a baby elephant that was just force-fed a tuba.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," she expelled, and every head in the place, at least a hundred people, turned our way.

This wasn't so bad. As long as she didn't follow it up with a snort. Please don't snort. Please don't snort. Please don't–

*SNNNNNNNOOOOOORRRRRRTTTT* "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," sharp inhale, "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," *SNNNNNOOOORRRRTTT* "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."

I considered the bright side, which involves inserting a line on my resume (under skills) that reads, "Able to turn a woman into the loudest thing in Boston."