Me: I am covered with bruises lately. Where the hell did they all come from?
Jared: Something must be beating you in your sleep.
Me: I must have done something to offend a lot of tiny violent elves that sneak into my room at night. Either that, or it's Moosey (the stuffed moose Jared gave me whose real name is Romeo but I always just call Moosey.)
Jared: Oh, Moosey wouldn't do that. He loves you. Unless you were bad. Then you'd deserve it.
Me: Me, bad? No, I've been good. I'm always good. It must be the elves. Why isn't Moosey defending me from them?
Jared: He's a lover, not a fighter.
Me: But he can still beat me for being bad?
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