Jake dropped to one knee in the park, a ring box clutched in his fist. Lisa stared at him, her eyebrow arching like a questioning cat. ‘Lisa,’ he said, voice trembling with faux drama, ‘you’re the avocado to my toast, the cream to my coffee—’ ‘Jake,’ she interrupted, ‘we’ve only been dating three months. You’re not even a good punner.’ Undeterred, he grinned. ‘But wait! You’re the Wi-Fi to my phone, the socks to my shoes—’ ‘You’re making me want to throw a banana at you,’ she deadpanned. He paused, then blurted, ‘You’re the… the… cheese to my macaroni!’ Lisa blinked. ‘That’s not even a thing.’ Suddenly, Jake’s face fell. ‘Okay, fine,’ he muttered, slumping. ‘Let’s skip the puns. Will you marry me?’ She tilted her head. ‘Finally?’ In one fluid motion, he yanked a sign from his pocket that read “PUNNY PROPOSAL” and held it aloft. The crowd erupted in laughter. Lisa stared at him, then burst into giggles. ‘You’re ridiculous,’ she said, snatching the sign. ‘But yes.’
