Make good choices because ghosts are stuck with the haircut they died with.
[teaching son to swim]
Me: get this wrong & you die
If I’m found dead in the bathtub clutching a toaster, check for Pop-Tarts before jumping to conclusions.
[1st date]
Me: I don’t mind admitting I find these fancy menus confusing. What does that say?
Her: chicken
Me: no, after that
Her: nuggets
[feeding baby]
Wife: here comes the airplane
Me whispering in baby’s ear as he swallows his food: that was a spoon. Her lies don’t end here
[baby pushes food away as I try feeding it]
Fine. Die.
[donating blood]
Me [feeling lightheaded]: I’m gonna need that back
Therapist: were you bullied in school?
Me: no
Therapist: oh, did you have a different haircut in school?
[at ultrasound]
Dr [preparing gloves]: are you allergic to latex?
Me: yeah that’s why we’re here
Wife: don’t forget to pick the kids up from school
Me: it’s Saturday, they’re both upstairs
Wife: it’s Wednesday & we have 3 kids
[drops your baby]
Me: shit, sorry. Let me get you another one
Her ankles were strong & sturdy, keeping her feet attached to her legs at all times. She had the eyebrows of a livid mechanic.
[wife drops me at the airport]
Wife: have a safe flight
Me: I have no say in the matter
Wife [already driving off]: die then
[first day as furniture salesman]
Guy [inspecting bed]: nice, solid frame. Who makes it?
Me: you or your wife. Whoever gets up last really
Me: I’m not cleaning that up
Clifford the Big Red Dog: you have to