“I’d like you to meet my son.”
Not your son, Bobby.
“We’ve got the same beard.”
You don’t.
“Well, he’s already in the will, so it’s a moot point now. What, uh, is his name?”
Jim James.
“Nah.”
Swear.
“If I told you my name was Bobby Roberts, what would you say?”
Fake news.
“There you go. Have you, uh, met my nipple?”
I haven’t.
“Brought the little guy out with me today. He gets all cooped up sometimes.”
Sure
“Besides, I wanted my nipple to meet my son.”
Right.
September 12, 2017 at 8:15 pm
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