(My dad and I were having a post-Thanksgiving dinner farting contest. It was getting progressively worse and worse and thus funnier and funnier until he pauses and makes a weird face.)
Me: What's wrong, Dad?
Dad: ... I don't trust this one.
Me: ... Trust what, the fart?
Dad: Aye. I think it might be a shart in disguise.
(talking to my mom about a project for school.)
Me: Yeah, so my teacher says I actually have to talk about an accident that happened in the past. Do you have any I could use?
Me: But that's my brother's name.
Mom: Like I said...
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