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?

Man: No.

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.”

Man: Atheists.

The end.