The Thirteenth Lobster

(My mother is reading in bed while my father sleeps, when he abruptly sits up.)

Dad: “How many are there?”

Mom: “…how many what?”

Dad: “Lobsters.”

Mom: *realizing he’s asleep and knowing how much he loves lobster* “Thirteen.”

Dad: “Well, get them off!”

Mom: “What?”

Dad: “Get. Them off. The BED!”

(He then lay down and went back to sleep. This was one of my mother’s favorite stories for years.)