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.)
