I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter
T: Good morning Jerky.
B: Jerky?
T: Would you prefer sweet cheeks?
B: How bout my given name, LaPonicah
T: I’m Mr. Mom today.
B: What happened to the sitter? Did you fire her?
T: She quit.
B: Did she hand in a written resignation? Then did you poop on it?
T: No we pooped on her first.
B: Simultaneously?
T: Yeah. We wanted to give her a good reason to quit.
B: Deb could babysit.
T: How much does she charge? Can we pay her in peanut butter?
B: Did you pay the other sitter in peanut butter?
T: No. She likes jelly.
B: How bout just butter?
T: Or “I can’t believe it’s not butter.”
B: That would Probably work. As long as she couldn’t tell.
T: Or the “I can’t believe it’s not butter” spray.
B: We actually have the spray.
T: For deodorant and diaper rashes?
B: No, we use it to grease door hinges and coat the wheels of our gurneys.
T: I wondered why Reese kept licking the hinges.
B: Well, that’s sort of a family hobby.
