I am picking up my seven-year-old nephew from school. I ask how his day went since he looks pretty sour, and after a little pressure:

Nephew: “I was reprimanded in music class and told to write to not say swears in the classroom. It’s so unfair!”

Me: “Oh? What did you do?”

Nephew: “I was told to research and present some stuff about my favorite song, things like rhythm and style, and write what it is about, but the teacher got pissed when I sang mine. She didn’t get angry at others!”

I’m puzzled, and sort of not believing what he’s saying, but I figure it’s worth letting him tell the whole story.

Me: “Uh… but what song was it? Do you remember the lyrics?”

Nephew: “It was [Song], and I remember the lyrics! Listen: ‘Australian Aborigines lay down on the ground and, with a roar of fertility, release their c** into the Earth.’”

I freeze, a little startled by the… unusual choice of song, both because the singer it’s from is not the easiest of songwriters to understand, even for adults, because the sound is pretty atypical, and because, well, the lyrics aren’t the most appropriate. I stop close by his home, trying to keep my poker face.

Me: “Do you actually understand what that stanza is saying?”

Nephew: “Yeah! Aboriginal people sometimes lay belly-down on the ground, and then they spray the boys’ seed of life into the Earth.”

Me: “But you know what that seed of life is?”

Nephew: “No… Actually, do you know?”

I pretended to not know, as I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of explaining ejaculation like that, but I did get to talk with his dad. Apparently, his father — my brother — and his wife had decided to do away with parental control on media as soon as he started grade school… even if it meant having some very awkward talks with teachers about the child’s language and tastes.

I work at a grab-and-go pizza place. Two guys come up around midnight, obviously having a good time. The first guy points to his friend.

Guy #1: “My pimp daddy is paying for my slice.”

Me: “All right. That will be [total].”

Guy #2: *Laughing* “She didn’t even blink!“

Me: “I’ve worked here for four years, through every holiday and sport event.”

Guy #1: “Fair enough.”

Two of my coworkers are checking and bagging respectively; the bagger, given the global health crisis, is wearing a mask with “SPACEBALLS: THE FACE MASK” in large lettering. A customer comes up through the line and begins unloading her groceries onto the belt. My coworker on the register greets her and asks if she’d like any paper bags. 

The customer, looking right at the bagger and his facemask, says: 

Customer: “Oh, yes, please! I forgot my balls at home.” 

Cue a beat of silence… after which everyone present bursts into laughter.

Customer: “Yes, I would like some bags so I can get my groceries home, seeing as how I can never come back here again now!”

I’m stacking shelves in the supermarket when a gentleman approaches me. English is not his first language but I understand him clearly.

Customer: “Where’s your clit bang?”

I blink once or twice, really hoping I didn’t just hear what I thought I heard.

Me: “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear…”

Customer: “Clit bang! You know?!”

Me: “I’m afraid I haven’t heard of that… product. What is it for?”

Customer: “You know! I see it on TV! You squeeze, it squirt.”

Pretty sure I’m being pranked, I’m about to say so, when he says something that makes it click.

Customer: “For cleaning! Shiny!”

It clicks.

Me: “Oh! Cillit Bang!”

Customer: “Yes! Clit bang! You squeeze, it squirt, it clean!”

I took him to the cleaning product aisle and made sure I said the item’s name CORRECTLY about ten times until he was getting it right. I hope he has fun cleaning!

This story is part of our Watching-Too-Much-TV roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

12 Hilarious Stories About People Who Believed What They Saw On Crime Shows 

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My parents hate tattoos, so after I got my second, I sort of stopped telling them I was getting more and just wore long sleeves. However, one day at work, my mom stops by unexpectedly and sees the other four tattoos she did not know about and, of course, she tells my dad. When I get home, he wants to see them.

One thing to say, though, is that all of my tattoos are tasteful and really well done. One, in particular, is a design of a woman sitting in a crescent moon. I frequently have people stop and tell me how beautiful the piece is.

My father, however, doesn’t really look at the design or anything. No, he immediately zooms in on one detail and eloquently says:

Dad: “I can see a booby.”