A restaurant. A man and woman sit at dinner. A cat sits on a chair nearby.
Man: Do you remember the last time we were here?
Woman: The power outage? Yeah.
Man: Why did we return?
Woman: I recall a heated discussion some moments ago—what time is it?
Man: Seven thirty; you ask me that question a lot; I wonder you don’t just look at a clock.
Woman: I guess we were having the heated discussion thirty minutes ago.
Man: Time really flies.
Woman: Oh, look, there is a cat on that chair.
Man: Is it a stuffed cat?
Woman: It is licking its balls.
Man: Ah, yes, that’s a real cat.
The electrical output in the kitchen overloads the circuit and the lights shut off. The man and woman sit in darkness for a moment.
Woman: Do you smell poo?
Woman: Did you fart?
Man: I haven’t farted in years.
Woman: Haha, oh, Richard, that’s funny.
Man: Oh, Barbara, that dress makes you look ten years younger.
Woman: It smells like poo.
Man: Was the cat licking its balls or its butt?
Woman: The cat!
Man: There is a reason we don’t let animals into restaurants.
Woman: Yeah, just the human animals.
Man: Yeah, just the ones who wear clothing and wash their hands.
Woman: Do they? Do they, Trevor?
Man: I hate cats.
Woman: What is their purpose?
Man: Yeah, why did they evolve?
Woman: “Let me in, let me in, let me in, oh never mind!”
Man: Horrible, smelly, disgusting—pooing everywhere.
Woman: “I can pee on this; I can pee on this other thing; I can pee over here, too.”