I’ll have the lox in a loafer, please

“He also took me out to dinner, and this morning made breakfast for me in his slippers.”

Well, he was in his slippers; my breakfast wasn’t in them.

Nor was I in his slippers. Let’s keep this blog respectable.

(“Last night I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas I don’t know.” Don’t you miss Groucho?)

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