  Poor Red No conversation taking place at my dad's house ever fails to amuse me. Breakfast. We ate omlettes and [exceptionally baconly bacony] bacon. The conversation started with a corny joke referring to a corny joke in The Producers. My dad, who has never actually seen the show, but whose Producer's soundtrack listening count probably exceeds that of Bill Gates' yearly income's George Washingtons, made the joke. The joke was about Dad's grandmother's pig Red. Supposedly, Red one day mysteriously ran away.
His family ate very well for the next two weeks. It was never made clear whether this Red actually existed or not, but I'm assuming it doesn't matter much, considering the fact that five minutes later, the conversation had somehow slyly shifted to discussing the color of the sky in the eye of a tornado or a hurricane. Apparently, it's green. Only in my family... 
