It was Christmas Day. Presents had been opened, breakfast bagels chomped and mimosas clinked in a toast. She heaved herself off the sofa and, planting her feet, thrust her hips out, her head back and bent backwards, arms out, shaking her boobies.
"What's this?" she asked him
He was distracted, inspecting his present.
"What's this?" she said again, still bobbing her chest from side to side.
"An epileptic fit?" he said.
"Nope!" Shake. Shake. "Try again!"
"Indigestion?"
"Aw come on! Try again!"
"Your touchdown happy dance?"
"NO!" she yelled. "It's the Chrimbo Limbo!"
"I'm going to let that silly joke pass," he said, "because I'm full of Christmas spirit."
"After all that effort I went to?" she whined, straightening up, slowly. "I think I threw my back out!"
"Your effort of creating a silly joke based on my homeland's slang description of the birth of Christ through dangerous gyration is greatly appreciated. Now, seeing as you're up anyway, how about some more champagne? Maybe if I drink more, I'll think you're funny."
She stuck her tongue out at him, and headed for the kitchen.