7:30 a.m.

Me: Could you find me a pair of socks?

She: *sigh* You have socks in a bag in the living room.

Me: (playfully) You’re going to be in a bag in the living room.

She: What does that mean?

Me: I suppose it means I’m going to chop you up and put you in a sack in the living room. You know, for Santa.

She: Ew. Seems like a lot of work. Couldn’t you just put me in a sack without all the chopping up?

Me: Well, I don’t really have a bag that big.

She: What were you going to use?

Me: The bags under the sink, probably.

She: The plastic grocery bags?

Me: Yeah.

She: Well, you’ll need to double-bag. I’m not that light.

Me: Plus, all the blood.

She: What are you going to chop me up with?

Me: Mm… Hatchet?

She: We don’t have one. You might need to borrow from someone. And while you’re there, you may as well just get a bigger sack.

Me: Well, I don’t want to overplan this. Better stick with the original idea. I could just use jars and a kitchen knife, I suppose. The brain was going in a jar anyway.

She: Why? So you could set up a grammaphone shell and I could speak to you?

Me: If I were going to cut you up, what are the chances I’d want you to be able to speak to me afterward?

She: Good point.

Me: No, the brain is to power the new bunny robot.

She: Because a bunny is the only thing cute enough to replace me?

Me: Bunny robots are not cute.

She: Depends how you build them. Mine would be.