David's family's sense of humor, on the other hand, is as subtle as an unfrosted bundt cake. A perfect example of his family's inability to grasp my comic genius was the day I succeeded in convincing David to carry the bumper (which he had just removed from his father's jeep with the assistance of a small tree) into his parents' house. It didn't matter to me that I had only met David's parents two days before. The sidesplitting visual of him entering the living room with the giant bumper in his arms had me gasping for air. To overcome David's reluctance, I promised him there was no person on earth who wouldn't find this funny.
After we returned to the room in which David's parents had been quietly reading -- David holding the bumper and me by his side -- it took a good five minutes for me to notice that I was the only person laughing. Hard. Because I couldn't stop, I ran cackling like a hyena out of the house, and, accompanied only by the wildlife in the woods around me, let my fit of hysterics run its course.