“So, if it isn’t the old Muffin-Licker! How you doing, Muffer, which, just in case you’re a little slow on the uptake, is short for Muffin-Licker, Muffin-Licker.”
—How much longer will I have to put up with this indignity?
“Oh, probably as long as you’re a Muffin-Licker, Muffer old boy, which could be . . . forever, since once you cross the Muffin-Licking line, you can never go back: once a Muffin-Licker, always a Muffin-Licker.”
—This could get old really fast.
“Well, I could just call you Lumpy, or Lumpster, or Lumpkins, or Lumpalooza . . .”
—Meaning you have no shame and are willing to tease a poor creature about a physical infirmity over which he has no control?
“You’re right, that’s cruel. Teasing a poor creature about something it does have control over, like its tongue, is far better.”
—It wasn’t my fault.
“Oh, so you’re finally admitting to the muffin-licking, Muffin-Licker?”
—Not exactly, but for the sake of argument, say the alleged event did in fact take place; under such circumstances, any alleged muffin-licking would definitely be your fault.
—Or the muffin’s fault.
“Let me get this straight: a proud, strong, independent member of the canine species has been, allegedly, victimized by a pumpkin muffin? Muffins can’t even move of their own volition, Muffer.”
—True, but they can send out irresistible messages of tantalization. If, and I repeat, if my tongue violated the muffin-space, it was because the muffin engaged in illegal, immoral, and unconscionable entrapment schemes that should be condemned and rejected by every right-thinking mammal.
“Be that as it may, I’m still not very happy that you also try to blame me for your permission-less muffin licking.”
—I’ll withdraw that suggestion: it was absolutely the muffin’s fault.
“If you say so, Muffin-Licker, who am I to say thee nay? Particularly since the muffin is no longer around to defend itself.”
—We could question another of its kind, since there’s a large bag of those nefarious muffins on the counter . . .
“Good try, Muffin-Licker, but no dice.”