Wonderboy, inquiring about my evening plans: What will you do at twelve o’clock?
(We’ve already covered nine, ten, and eleven o’clock.)
Me: I’ll go to bed, probably.
Rilla (gasps): Twelve o’clock at night?
Rilla, incredulous: You mean there are minutes in the night??
Sometimes These Things Just Write Themselves
Beanie’s Joke of the Day
Sometimes It’s Hard to Tell
Pioneer Woman, Watch Out