Me – Aw, c’mon. How dumb do you think I am?
Michael, purposely ignoring the rhetorical nature of the question – Very dumb. I think I could bring in a rock to replace you.
Me, calling his bluff – Oh, yeah? Well, why don’t you go find a rock then?
Michael – I just might.
Me – Good luck finding a pretty one.
Michael – It doesn’t have to be pretty. It just has to cook.
Me, caressing his stomach – I see. But, what about my other wifely duties?
Michael – You don’t have any other wifely duties. I can always just write “headache” on the rock.
Uproarious laughter ensues.
*He’d have to be far boulder than he is.