The other week, Alan and I were driving home from somewhere when I started to yawn, then – because it felt good – made some sort of gurgling noise with my throat. When I finished, Alan was looking wildly around the car.
“What the hell was that?” He looked panicked.
“My yawn?” I asked.
He turned to look at me. “That was YOU?”
I nodded. “I was stretching my voice.”
“You were doing what?” he asked.
“I don’t know – stretching my voice. It felt good.”
“It sounded like a mechanical noise,” he still looked dubious. “I thought something was wrong with my car.”
“Nope, just me.” I smiled. “Did I sound like Chewbacca? Because I kind of felt like there were a few different pitches coming out.”
He just shook his head and continued driving.
I tried to recreate the noise.
“Please stop,” he said, his eyes on the road.
I obliged, but continued to silently contort my mouth, thinking about how I might be able to make that sound on command.
Alan raised his eyebrows and cast a sideways glance at me. “Seriously?”
“You need to be more supportive of my hobbies.”
Long silence.
“Are you trying to tell me that ‘stretching your voice’ is a hobby?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since I just discovered it.”
I don’t know how Alan can drive straight when shaking his head that hard.
pithypants 
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