Iodine In My Coffee

While the Wife is browsing through a furniture catalog in the passenger's seat, I'm patiently waiting for the drones at FourBucks to cough up the joe so we can get the hell out of the drive through lane. As he is prone to do, Guinness The Wonder Dog has his head out the rear window and is attempting to use his mind control powers to acquire sausage from passersby.

Unfortunately, this exchange takes place.

Drone: What a cute dog! What kind is he?

Me: Labradoodle.

Drone: He's beautiful. Do you show him?

Me: Are you kidding? Have you seen the kind of people who show
dogs?

Drone: I show dogs.

For some reason the conversation ended with our barista right there.

But the Wife wasn't wholly engrossed in his furniture shopping, because she immediately piped up with, "I just hope she spits in the right coffee."

To which I riposted, "Don't worry about getting spit in your coffee. She's getting that guy up front to teabag both of them."

"That's going to hurt."

"He'll teabag an iced coffee after."