Actual conversation I had with my elderly neighbors the 6th time in a row that they’ve unexpectedly dropped by to meet Victor and I’ve had to tell them that he’s out of town again:
me: I swear to God he really exists.
Them: Oh, we believe you.
me: You probably think I’ve chopped him up with an axe and stuffed him under the crawl-space.
them (slightly aghast): …We would never think that.
Me. Oh. Well, you probably do now.
me: We don’t even have a crawl-space.
me: Or a shovel.
neighbors: Well if you ever need to borrow a shovel just let us know. That’s what neighbors are for!
me: Well, Victor’s still alive. So…I don’t really need a shovel.
neighbors: Of course he is. We just meant if you needed a shovel for…
me: Oh! …For non-murderous reasons. Of course. Got it. Sorry. I am not a good conversationalist.
neighbors: Ah. Well, maybe we’ll stop by again on Saturday.
me: Awesome. I’ll be sure to hire someone to pretend to be my husband so it doesn’t look suspicious.
me: That was a joke.
me: It wasn’t a very good one.
And then they never came back again.