the clang of irony

Friends and I are slouched in front of the giant screen at the Cinerama, watching as Shpartans take it to the Persians, when all of a sudden we hear this exchange behind us.

"You're poking me. Knock it off."

[muffled] "I don't know--"

[growling] "Don't shake your head like that. You're f---ing poking me. That's f---ing assault. You'd better apologize."

[quietly, yet not meekly] "I apologize."

We're watching the machoest movie of the millennium as some testosteronehead hyperventilates about assault-by-poking. Ladies and gentlemen, this is not Shparta.