In the laundromat tonight . . .
"Guess what we're going to have to buy more of before the next time we do laundry?"
Them, punching me in the face.
Me, stabbing them in the neck with a steak knife, or a bit of laundry pipe, whatever that is.
Later . . . in the laundromat . . .
"Look at this Tommy Hilfiger watch: it wraps around your wrist!"
Me, "It's a watch."
Them, trying to eat my brains.
Me, shooting them in their zombie faces with a gun or gun made of laundry pipe. I am MacGyver. Then I pop a couple slugs in the nearest washer. The slugs are made of socks. Sock bullets.