“Darling, I think you ought to stop and let that squirrel cross the road.”

“Dang it dear, I can’t just stop in the middle of the highway like this. If it wants to take a chance, that’s up to it.”

“But, darling,” the wife continued to protest. “It might actually be safer to let it cross.”

“Don’t be stupid,” the husband snapped irritably. “You really think the idiots driving up behind me at 90 miles an hour will stop when they see me slow down? Like as not we’ll have a Chevy up our arses before we even blinked.”

“Yes, I realize that dear,” the wife replied patiently. “But those sweet little things are pointing a barrage of anti-tank rocket launchers in our direction.”

“What! Oh, Fu…..”

Screeeech!

“Uhm, baby face,” the husband cooed, dangling upside down in the seatbelt.

“Yes, darling?”

“How do you say, in squirrel tongue, ‘We’ll trade the nuts in the trunk for our freedom?’”