A little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in the sweetest little lisp, “Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep wittle wabbits?”
And the shopkeeper bends way down and puts his hands on his knees so that he’s on her level, and asks, “Do you want a wittle white wabby or a soft and fuwwy bwack wabby? Or maybe one like that cute wittle bwown wabby over there?”
She in turn puts her hands on her knees, leans forward and says in a quiet little voice, “I don’t fink my pyfon weally cares.”
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