Mitch sat on his sandwich.
“Mitch!” Everyone yelled in horror at what he’d done.
“Sorry!” he said, bolting up from his chair, mayonnaise smearing the bottom of his distressed jeans and a sprig of lettuce dangling from his belt buckle.
To ease his embarrassment he reached for his Taragrance-flavored glass of water. Which never tasted as good and refreshing as it did now. After a few gulps, he felt ready for anything.
And shortly thereafter he fathered three children. The tonic water had worked better than expected.
“Mitch!” Everyone yelled in horror at what he’d done.
“Sorry,” Mitch said. But then he thought that this latest error was no worse than sitting on a sandwich.