As a know-it-all (in my case, a genetic condition) I love being asked questions. At the second seder, a little boy asked me, “Why does the clock keep going?” I shot back, “Because time keeps going.”

BOO YEAH. If you want to catch me without a reply, you’re going to have to try harder than that, you three-toothed squirt.

Sometimes, though, even I can’t come up with an answer, as in the situation below. See if you can do better.

[ex-coworker]: are you / have you been a dog owner?
also hi, how are you

me: i had a dog when i was a kid

[ex-coworker]: i may as well tell you why i asked: a friend’s dog ate some condoms. her mom’s visiting. she doesnt want the dog to poop out the condoms while mom’s visiting. partly, apprently cause her mom will blame her for leaving condoms out for the dog to eat

me: … wow.
well, that’s definitely not a problem i had as a kid
were they wrapped?

[ex-coworker]: uh no

me: yikes.

++

It is perhaps worth mentioning that I did once use a condom as a bookmark of a book my mother then asked to borrow. I handed it over without any sense of impending doom, having completely forgotten. That’s as close as I have ever come to playing Russian Roulette.