Waiter: It's pronounced Con-k.
Me: Ok, I'd like some con-k fritters.
Waiter: The season's over. We don't have any.
I let it pass. But I tell my husband I want a con-k shell. Even though I didn't get to eat any con-k... I figured I'm justified now that I can pronounce it. He takes me to the beach later that day and finds dozens of con-k shells on the beach. But I say, I want a pretty one like the street vendors are selling. He says, you want to buy one of those instead of take one of these? Me: Basically, yes.

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