The Rubber Hits the Chicken Crossing the Road

Goofball: Her name was Lola, she was a farmer. Hay and straw were in her hair and her shirt came down to there --

Platy: H-h-h-i-i. Hi, Goofball.

Goofball: Hey there, Platy. How's my favorite platypus doing?

Platy: Okay. Hi.

Goofball: Hi back atcha. You got something you want to say to me, or you just wanna hang out?

Platy: I want to tell you something.

Goofball: Well, take your time. No rush. I'm not going anywhere or doing anything important. We got all the time in the word. When you figure out what you want to say, just come on out and say. Don't be afraid.

Platy: Harriet is going to have puppies.

Goofball: I'm not sure I heard that correctly.

Platy: Harriet is going to have puppies.

Goofball: She's going to have poppies? Ozzie buying her flowers? Is that what you're trying to say?

Platy: No, pup-pies, pUP-pies, puppies.

Goofball: That's horrible news. I can't believe it. I thought Ozzie was allergic to dogs. We're going to have some slobbery, eager, polyester munching hell hound roaming our hallways! This ain't cool at all. How could they just spring it on us without warning? What sort of protections will be in place for the bears? We need to know. First a body pillow and now puppies. Things in this household are going from bad to worse.

Platy: I just thought you should know.

Goofball: Thanks for the heads up little guy. I appreciate you letting me in on the secret.