The Stripper

It's rush hour, and I'm standing in the main aisle of the store, by all the check stands (and wouldn't you know it–people) musing aloud: "What else did we need?"

My megaphone-mouthed son: "Dad wants a stripper!"

Yes. He does. An adhesive stripper. 

My two teenaged sons come in, the next afternoon, "Mom!" 

"What?"

"That stripper was awesome!" (If only CPS could inspect me now…)

The next day: "Mom, that stripper ran out on us."

And after I go get more and the enchantment of a new project has worn off and the drudgery has set in, they come home the next day, weary. "Dude–that stripper wasn't as easy to work with as the last one."

And the puns don't stop. Who knew there could be so much potential comedic material in one can of Strip-Ease and a nasty basement floor?

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