A Fictional Conversation for a Friday

I want a puma.

What?

A puma.

I am afraid to ask why.

Go ahead, it's ok.

It doesn't have anything to do with the neighbor boy, does it?

...it might.

You're hedging.

No I'm not. It's more of a shrubbing. Denser and lower.

You can't really blame him. He's only 8.

Attila the Hun was only 7 when he invaded his first country.

That's a lie.

It's totally not! He did it after he got his Baby's First Pincer Movement set.

Really.

It's true! He rode a very small horse. A small, angry horse.

Let's get back to something slightly less ridiculous. Why do you want a puma?

You promise you won't be upset?

No.

Do you promise not to stab me?

If I do, I'll give you a head start.

Fair enough. I want it to poop on his lawn.

That's...unexpected. I was anticipating some sort of devouring, or an attack of some kind.

No. I'm just tired of his cat pooping in the marigolds. I'd like for the puma to devour his cat, and then poop it up on his lawn.

You just wanted to say "poop" and "puma" in the same sentence.

Get out of my head!