“Tweren’t none on my dipstick,” Dirk mugged to his wife, his head popping out from under the car. The studio audience howled. Somebody in the crowd wet their pants. Dirk gave one of those “woah-woah-woah” eye-rolls. His wife smiled and went back inside.

Some of Dirk’s buddies appeared in the driveway. “C’mon, Dirk,” said Unnamed Drinking Buddy with the Exposed Belly. “We’re goin to the Leeann Chin!”

Dirk looked up. “Whatta you said?” The audience roared at the applause sign.

“We’s gonna git sweet and sour dippers,” said the second buddy, maybe Cal? “Remember the last time you had sweet and sour dippers? Remember what you said?”

Dirk’s eyes pleaded with the camera. His collar sent a burst of electricity into his neck. Dirk sighed. “Tweren’t none on my dipstick!”

Someone in the studio audience laughed so hard they had a heart attack and died.

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