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    The Walking Dead: The Next Generation, Part 3

    | UK | Children, Nephews & Nieces

    (My nephew is obsessed with zombies right now, and planning for the zombie apocalypse – which is the only topic of conversation when he stays with us one night. I go to work and he stays with my wife and she later tells me all about his plans.)

    Wife: “So he’s got the zombie apocalypse all planned out.”

    Me: “Yeah?”

    Wife: “You and he are going to go out during the day and fight zombies with meat-cleaver guns, and then come home at night where I will be looking after and fortifying the house.”

    Me: “Right. What about his mum and [Three-Year-Old Sister].”

    Wife: “They can come and live with us.”

    Me: “In our little house on the main road? Not in their big house in the middle of nowhere?”

    Wife: “Yes, cause I’m going to fortify this one with stuff we get from the hardware store.”

    Me: “I love this kid.”

    Wife: “What’s a meat-cleaver gun by the way? He said you told him that.”

    Me: “Oh. [Former Housemate] and I saw it in a film and when he asked me what weapon I would use in the zombie apocalypse, that’s what I said.”

    Wife: “A meat-cleaver gun?”

    Me: “Yep.”

    Wife: “You two are too alike.”

    The Walking Dead: The Next Generation, Part 2
    The Walking Dead: The Next Generation

    Taking All The Fun Out Of Fungi

    | Columbus, OH, USA | Parents & Guardians

    (I am helping my mom make dinner. She has just put some mushrooms in the pan to start cooking.)

    Me: “Hey Mom, why did everyone at the party like the mushroom?”

    Mom: “Because they could keep him in the dark and feed him s***?”

    Me: “… No. Because… because he was a ‘fun guy.’”

    Mom: “Oh. I thought too deep on that one didn’t I?”

    Can Be Pur-Sueded Otherwise

    | Northampton, England, UK | Siblings

    Me: “[Brother] do you think swedes the vegetable came from Swedeland the country?”

    Brother: “…what?”

    Me: “Swedes, do you think they originally came from Swedeland?”

    Brother: “Swedeland…”

    Me: “It’s not Swedeland is it?”

    Brother: “No, it’s really not…”

    (I never did discover if swedes came from Sweden.)

    Mothering You About You Mothering

    | Surrey, England, UK | Parents & Guardians, Top

    (My mother is very conservative and believes that premarital sex is wrong. I’m 13 years old.)

    Mother: “What’s the matter with you?”

    Me: “I don’t feel too well. I was sick earlier and…”

    Mother: “Oh, my God, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

    Me: “What? No! Are you expecting a virgin birth or what?”

    (Fast forward to when I’m 16 or so…)

    Me: “Do I have a temperature? I’m feeling really nauseous.”

    Mother: “Oh, no! You’re not pregnant, are you?”

    Me: “Mother, [Brother #1] and [Brother #2] had the exact same symptoms last week and I don’t hear you asking them if they’re pregnant.”

    (This happens with increasingly annoying regularity, until I’m in my 30s and have been with the same guy for several years. We’re living together and I’m visiting my parents for the weekend.)

    Mother: “What’s the matter with you? You normally love my [special dish she cooks for me].”

    Me: “Yeah, I’m really sorry. It’s lovely but I’m feeling a bit under the weather and don’t want to rush it and make myself sick.”

    Mother: “Have you been feeling sick a lot? In the …morning?”

    Me: “Uh, are you asking if I’m pregnant AGAIN?”

    Mother: “Well, I’m your mother. I worry about these things.”

    Me: “For the love of… no, I’m not, but let me ask YOU a question. If you really were about to become a grandmother, is that how you’d want to find out? Or wouldn’t you prefer to let me announce the news and give you a nice surprise?”

    (She never asked again!)

    Driving A Thin Grammatical Line

    | Norway | Parents & Guardians

    (In Norway, it’s not unusual to ask somebody if they want to do something rather than if they can do it. My father is known to be very sarcastic at times.)

    Me: “Hey, dad? Do you want to drive to [Friend]‘s house?”

    Dad: “No.”

    Me: *sighs* “Can you?”

    Dad: “Sure.”

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