Me: Good question. But you know, I’m really not sure. I think I’m gonna jump . . . that is, unless they’ve got Butter Brickle. Do you think they’ve got Butter Brickle?
You: How the hell should I know?
Me: Well, I dunno, I just thought that since you asked . . .
You: For Pete’s sake, if you’re gonna be so annoying about it, just freakin’ jump.
Me: Well, I dunno about it now. I really want some Butter Brickle . . .
You: Holy mackerel. You are as annoying as sardines on a peanut butter and jelly. I’m outta here.
Me: Are you still getting ice cream?
You: Yeah, I guess.
Me: Okay, then. Let’s take my car.
You: Sure. I’m low on gas, anyway.
Me: (with a thoughtful expression) Hold on a minute — I’ve just gotta take the rag outta the muffler.
(Unless you really want to.)