RX: (Down the hall, reading aloud.) "'On the spot where Hollywood would someday grow, two vaqueros were crushing a priest to death with his own ώĳήеряεςς.' How's that for the opening sentence of a novel?"
Me: "His own what?!?"
RX: "'Wine press'."
Me: "Oh, thank God. I thought you said 'his own wanker.'"
RX: "What did you think I was reading? Although, there'd probably be a market for that on the internet..."