This afternoon I was trying to coordinate a time to get with one of my bosses, Ben – my only coworker who can keep up with (and occasionally outdo) me punwise. But it was easy to see how thin he was stretched, trying also to get some other tasks done at that same time:
Ben (apologetically): I'm just a little scrambled.
Me (immediately): That's okay, Ben; you're a good egg.
Ben (lamely, after a brief pause): I am not a poultry product.
Sorry, Ben – point goes to AgingChild in this round.
However, perhaps to redeem himself, I heard him later at the desk of another coworker, "Priscilla". Priscilla has a dog's chew toy on her desk; it's a fierce-looking dog's head crunching down on the words (I don't normally say this, by the way) BITE ME. I heard a sudden, loud "PHWEE-hee!" as Ben squeezed the toy on the way past. "You are a twisted puppy," he told her in genuine delight.
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