She Needs Some Flu Powder

(My husband calls me on his way home from work. He knows that I’m feeling quite sick, and that it is possibly the flu.)

Husband: “Hey, how are you feeling?”

Me: “Ugh. Let’s see… death warmed over would be a step up.”

Husband: “And after that is death freshly cooked?”

Me: “Yes, death freshly prepared with a nice side salad.”

Husband: “We are not ‘death eaters’ in our home, young lady!”