Question: What is the universal language?
Is it love? Bullshit.
Music? Then somebody get me a Bjork-to-English dictionary, please.
Esperanto? Worse idea than ebonics.
Nay, I tell you, the universal language is three rapid, angry knocks on the wall/ceiling that is understood by everyone everywhere to mean "Shut the holy motherfuck up you noisy motherfucking asshole." This particular language becomes even clearer at 3:12 a.m. on a Tuesday.
Yes, Mrs. Heavyfoot and I have apparently connected, like Richard Dreyfus and some aliens in the starry night by Devil's Tower, through a simple sequence of tones projected forcefully. Alien visitors respond to synthesized keyboard; Mrs. Heavyfoot to my closed fist on drywall.
We just may have an understanding.
To commemorate our historic one-night-and-counting accord, I give you a video of her estranged husband, Mr. Heavyfoot, a player in the Canadian comedy troupe Kids in the Hall. Enjoy.